


The Importance of Language

by akpoptrash1



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo is the main character his relationship comes second, Cultural Differences, Dwarves are Dicks, Gandalf Knows All, Green Language, Hobbits have their own language, If You Squint - Freeform, Lord Elrond puts up with so much, M/M, Mirkwood, No Ring, Poor Bilbo, Second language, Slow Updates, Suspicions, Thilbo, Westron, Will add tags as I go, bagginshield, only a mention of spiders, they have a fighting chance by chapter 14, they slowly trust each other, thranduil is a dick, why is everyone so secretive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2019-07-29 22:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 22,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16273385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akpoptrash1/pseuds/akpoptrash1
Summary: Bilbo Baggins understands a lot about his part of the world. The other parts are up for debate. Especially with Westron. He knows his mother would be turning in her grave if he turned this down because he couldn't understand everything that was being said, but is it really worth putting up with the suspicious nature of dwarves? Is it really worth the risk of all of Middle Earth finding out the only secret left?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Westron is shown with "__"  
> The Green Language is shown with *__*
> 
> Please ignore that those look like faces lol

*Watch the edge Bilbo!* he heard his mother shout. There was concern laced in with her amusement. He waved his hand above his head to show that he had heard her and continued to stab at the water with his long stick. He could see fish swimming around in the river and was trying to catch something for dinner. He knew he was no fisherman, but he would do anything to see his mother and father smile.

It was mid-afternoon. The Baggins’ were gathered for a picnic near the river. Bilbo, being the oldest of the children, was put in charge of watching over the younger ones. It wasn’t terribly hard. The Took children were worse. They were always getting into the worst trouble. Baggins children were content to play near the river and try to catch fish with sticks. If the Tooks were there, half of them would already be in the river.

Bilbo’s ear twitched. He heard Westron being spoken behind him. He was not nearly as fluent as he really should have been at this point, but it did not really matter. He still had a few years before he had to start taking over some of his father’s responsibilities. 

There was a small splash to his left. He turned to scold whichever cousin had decided to throw a stone in and disturb the fish, but there was no one there. His heart sank as he slowly turned to peer down into the river.

Drogo was thrashing in the water below. Bilbo jumped into the water as someone started to scream. 

There was no high ground in the river. The water had slowly eroded away until it was at least three feet below the bank. Bilbo held little Drogo’s head above the water and kicked furiously, trying to stay up. His relatives gathered above him on the bank, all shouting. Bungo thrust a long stick towards Bilbo and he told Drogo to hold on to it tight. They quickly pulled him up and his mother took him far away from the bank. 

Bilbo looked around the river. There was no way his father could pull him up the same way. The stick was too thin. Suddenly a thick gray stick was thrust in his face. He grasped it firmly and he was yanked out of the water.

*Bilbo!* his mother cried, hugging him tightly. Bungo knelt beside them, stroking his son’s hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Bilbo shivered a little, looking up into the shadowed face of a very tall man.

“Hello, Bilbo Baggins. I must confess, I did not think we would meet like this.”

Bilbo nodded, understanding the general meaning. “Hello. Who are you?”

“My name is Gandalf. I am a friend of your mother’s. We have shared many adventures together.”

Bilbo nodded. “My mother tell me. I did not know you are old?”

Bungo burst out laughing as Belladonna chided her son. *What? You always made him seem like a younger man! I don’t know men’s ages very well. Is that how middle aged men are supposed to look?*

“It is alright, Belladonna. I am indeed very old. I have been around since long before you were born, Bilbo Baggins. And I will be around long after you have died.”

Bilbo sighed. His mother swept him off to change into some new clothes. Luckily they were not far from Bag End.

*You are so lucky Gandalf is the way he is. Any other wizard you would would have been dead where you stood!*

*Really mother. I just saved someone’s life! Please, give me a break.*

*I have half a mind to make you stay here in this smial until you are 33. That way you cannot go around saying these absolutely ridiculous things!*

Bilbo rolled his eyes and closed his door, changing quickly. When he reemerged, his mother way gazing at a map on the wall. It had been from her first adventure. She had only gone to Rivendell, but that was still so much farther than any Hobbit in the history of Hobbits had ever gone. Of course, she would go on many more adventures after that and would continue to break her record.

*I thought Gandalf knew our language?* Bilbo asked. He hated not knowing everything the big folk said, but Westron was so different from their Green Language. It was difficult to master. Even in the Shire there were only a few who were completely fluent. And two of them were raising Bilbo.

*No. I offered many times to teach him, but he was adamant that it stay our language.*

Bilbo suddenly had a huge amount of respect for this wizard. 

When they arrived back at the picnic Drogo seemed to have forgotten the incident all together. He was happy and laughing and running with all of the smaller children. Wisely, they were no longer allowed near the bank of the river.

“That was an incredibly brave thing that you did, Bilbo.”

“It is nothing. He is my cousin. I help him for a long time.”

Gandalf smiled and placed his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “It was not nothing.”

The rest of the picnic consisted of Gandalf and Belladonna catching up while Bilbo busied himself with all of his cousins. Once it became dark, Gandalf let off fireworks for everyone. It was a true delight and Bilbo knew the Shire would be talking about it for at least a week after.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to write a character who does not speak a language fluently. While I have learned languages before, I've never gotten to the point where I can have long conversations. I apologize for any mistakes I might make writing a character like this.

Bilbo leaned back in his chair. The sun was shining down on his face, warming his body. It was a pleasant day. Bilbo’s favorite time of the year by far. The weather was warming up to summer, but the sweet air of spring still clung to the wind. He sighed, wishing that he could make this moment last forever.

A shadow stretched across him. He opened an eye and looked up into the face of a tall man with a familiar staff. Bilbo squinted up at him. An unidentifiable feeling began to bubble in his stomach.

“Good morning.”

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"

Bilbo paused, fighting a smile. “All, I think.” A silence stretched between them. Finally Bilbo asked, “Can I help you?”

“I suppose you can. I’m looking for someone to share an adventure.”

Bilbo scoffed. “Yes. That is the thing you would come here for. Mema talked about you a lot before she died. She talked that you would come one day.”

“She said.”

Bilbo nodded. “Thank you. She said you would come one day. Please, come inside. I think I have some tea from when you were here.”

Bilbo snickered when Gandalf hit his head against the chandelier, like he always did. He set the kettle on and pulled out some cookies he baked yesterday. He wished he had known that Gandalf would have been showing up. He would have made his grandmother’s famous lemon squares.

“I was sorry to hear of your parents’ passings. I wish I had made more time to come and visit you.”

Bilbo waved his hand. “Mema and Pepa would have wrote you a letter if they thought I needed help. They said I was okay. I was…” he trailed off, looking up at the ceiling. “I was running? I was running Bag End when they died. And Bag End has not been fired down yet!”

“Burnt down,” Gandalf said with a smile. Bilbo nodded. The kettle began to whistle and he carefully poured the water into the tea pot. “I must say, your Westron has vastly improved since we last met.”

“Vastly?”

“Your Westron has improved a lot.”

Bilbo laughed and shook his head. “No, it is the same. I am better at listening because I helped the Thain. Speaking is the same.”

They both sipped their tea, silence taking over. Bilbo tilted his head, looking at the wizard curiously. He sighed and put the cup down. “Yes, I suppose I should tell you why I am here.” 

And thus poor Bilbo Baggins found himself in the market, Hamson at his elbow, trying to figure out how much food would be enough for thirteen dwarves.

*Just give them each a chicken and call it a day!* Hamson suggested rather unhelpfully. He genuinely did mean the advice he was trying to give Bilbo, though. He had always admired Bilbo and wanted to help him as much as he could. But his knowledge of anything outside of the Shire was limited to knowing that dwarves, elves, and men existed.

*Cooking thirteen chickens would take too long. Blasted wizard. He couldn’t have given me more of a heads up on when these dratted dwarves would arrive?* Hamson patted his shoulder and pulled him towards the nearest butcher’s shop.

When the two of them finally arrived back and Bag End, each weighed down by baskets and bags full of food, they were surprised to find Bell already baking bread.

*Thank you Hamson. Now please go and help your father with the gardens,” she said over her shoulder. He nodded, not wanting to face her wrath, and ran off to find his dad.

*What are you doing?* Bilbo asked. 

*Helping you get ready for your company, of course! Hamfest told me of your dilemma and I wish to help in anyway I can. Plus, I have never seen a dwarf before, and I reckon this is my only chance!*

Bilbo smiled wide and got to work.

Night fell before they knew it and the table was covered with lots of different dishes. Hamfest and Hamson had helped them move the tables to the hall so they could fit thirteen. From what Bilbo understood, dwarves all ate around the table for big gatherings. Hobbits just moved outside. Bell was just pulling the last loaf of bread out of the oven when the doorbell rang. They both paused, looking at each other.

*You better get that,* she said.

*Oh, yes!* Bilbo dashed towards the door and opened it. A bald dwarf covered in tattoos with some deadly weapons strapped all over his body turned and stared him down.

“Dwalin,” he said gruffly, “at your service.”

“Bilbo Baggins at yours. Please, come in.”

Dwalin raised his eyebrows at the hobbit and sauntered in. Bilbo self-consciously pulled at his sleeves, hoping that his accent wasn’t too heavy. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“The food? The wizard said there’d be lots of it.”

“Oh, yes it is there.” Bilbo pointed him to the hall. He ducked through the doorway to the kitchen to where Bell was putting some finishing touches on their deserts. *Try not to stare,* he muttered.

Bell scoffed. *I was not raised by wolves, Bilbo Baggins. Does he want anything to drink?*

*I don’t know. He walked in like he owned the place. I let him be.*

Bell rolled her eyes and walked to the hall. Bilbo briefly considered following her and making sure Dwalin could understand her with her limited Westron, but the bell rang again. He moved back to the door and found a white haired dwarf. “Balin, at your service.”

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours. Please, come in.” Balin had a friendly face and very politely hung his cloak on the rack. “The food is there, Mister Balin.”

“Thank you lad.” Bilbo led him to the hall and found Bell placing a rather large cup of ale in front of Dwalin. She smiled up at him, almost amused. Dwalin and Balin greeted each other in a most unusual way and then the bell was ringing again.

On and on the dwarves arrived until at last Gandalf showed up with them. He smiled and ducked inside. “How are you this fine evening, Bilbo?”

“Tired. I want to sleep, but you said I am going to sign the contract, so I will stay. Bell is helping me with dinner.”

Gandalf nodded, his eyes twinkling. “I can’t wait to see the spread the two have you come up with.”

Dinner was delicious. Bilbo made sure to put some of the food aside so that he and Bell could eat something. They really had outdone themselves. They had made six different dishes with just fish. There were also dishes with chicken and pork and a large variety of cheeses and vegetables. The dwarves finished the food with little problem. Bell watched them in amazement, shaking her head.

*I had wondered if perhaps we had made too much, but perhaps we could have made a few more dishes,* she muttered. Bilbo laughed.

*Thank you for all you help. Why don’t you go home? I’m sure your children would love to hear a story before they go to bed.*

Bell smiled. *Yes. This evening has given me enough material for a week. Just in time, too. They are beginning to become bored with story after story of the hobbits in our early days.* Bilbo kissed her cheek and walked her to the door. She waved goodbye and walked the short distance to her house.

“Excuse me, Mister Bilbo? What should I do with my plate?” a timid dwarf asked. Bilbo couldn’t remember his name, but it didn’t matter because in the next moment his plates were being thrown around his smial. He sputtered and tried to form a coherent sentence. But he saw Gandalf looking quite serene from his spot on the wall, so he let it go. The end result was clean dishes and nothing broken.

There was a knock at the door that boomed through the halls.

“He’s here,” Gandalf whispered. Bilbo swallowed and walked to his door, pulling it open.

A dwarf turned and looked past him to the wizard. “Gandalf. You said this place would be easy to find. I got lost. Twice.” He walked in, not even looking at Bilbo. He closed the door carefully, wishing already that he had pretended he hadn’t been home when they all started to arrive.

“Bilbo, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“So this is the hobbit.” Thorin finally looked at him. Bilbo was first struck by how serious his features were. It looked as if nothing could impress him. His beard was short and neat and his hair carefully groomed. His travel clothing was clean as well. He had a sword at his belt and stood tall. Much taller than Bilbo. “Tell me, have you much experience in fighting?”

“I’m sorry?” Bilbo didn’t recognize the word ‘experience.’

“Axe or sword?”

Two more words he did not know. He wondered how he could call himself one of the best Westron speakers in Hobbiton when he could barely recognize the words coming out of this dwarf’s mouth. He looked to Gandalf, confusion and a sliver of fear in his eyes.

“As I thought. He looks more grocer than burglar.”

All though he didn’t recognize ‘grocer,’ he could tell when he was being insulted. Bilbo’s eyes snapped to Thorin’s, anger blazing. And then the look dropped and was replaced with that of a kind host.

“Here, Mister Thorin. I will give you food.” Bilbo placed his hand on Thorin’s arm and gently turned him in the direction of the hall. The rest of the company gathered around the table and began to talk in low voices. Bilbo threw together a quick meal of stew and bread with a little cheese and gave it to Thorin. He nodded in thanks and began to eat.

Bilbo moved over to lean against the wall behind Gandalf. He half listened to their conversation. He wondered when he should reveal what he had taken. He knew he had to prove his worth to these dwarves, but if he just whipped out what he had taken it might come across wrong.

“Bilbo, we could use a little more light.”

He brought out another candle and placed it on the table, illuminating the map the wizard had just pulled out. It was very old, but the pictures had not faded. The Lonely Mountain loomed like an ominous message.

“…and that’s why we’ll need a burglar.”

“And a good one,” Bilbo said.

“Are you?” one of the dwarves asked.

“Am I what?”

“Are you a good burglar?”

“Well…” Bilbo reached into his pockets, but everyone was shouting before he could display what he had. The Westron was echoing off the walls, but he had a hard time discerning the different words.

“IF I SAY BILBO BAGGINS IS A BURGLAR THEN A BURGLAR HE IS!” Gandalf thundered. The dwarves fell silent as a dark shadow began to take over the room. Bilbo stared up at the wizard, slightly scared. The last time he had seen him this angry was right after Fell Winter.

“Hobbits are quick and light on their feet and can choose to not be seen. Smaug is also unfamiliar with the smell of hobbits.”

“Have you done much burgling, Mister Bilbo?” a dwarf on the other side of the table asked. Bilbo smiled and reached back into his pockets. He pulled out a pipe and laid it in front of Thorin. Everyone was silent as they stared at it. 

“Well done, Mister Bilbo. I hadn’t even realized!” a dwarf with star shaped hair praised. He was given a contract and began to piece his way through it, muttering so he could sound out the words.

“Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained by lacerations? Incinerations?” Bilbo squinted at the words. He was aware of the company’s eyes on him. Gandalf was turning in his seat to look at him. “I am sorry, but I cannot sign this. I do not know what it said.”

“Says,” Gandalf corrected, moving to stand.

“Yes. I do not know what it says. This contract is too…” he trailed off, searching for the word. “Not easy. Like a birthday cake.”

“Fancy?” offered the dwarf with the hat.

“Yes. This contract is too fancy.”

“Very well,” muttered Thorin. He waved a hand and the white haired dwarf stood. 

“Is there a place we can work on this contract, Mister Bilbo? A place where the others will not get in the way?”

“Yes. Here, please.” He led Gandalf and the dwarf to his study, quickly pulling a table out from against the wall and stacking the books off to the side. They settled around the table, Gandalf pulling out his pipe as Bilbo handed the dwarf fresh paper and ink and a quill. Essentially, they rewrote the contract, just dumbed down and without any fancy words. Once they finished, Thorin was summoned so he could sign the contract. He quickly scanned it, something of a slight disapproval in his face. He signed it and passed it to the dwarf, who then passed it to Bilbo.

“Bah-len?” he asked, hoping he was pronouncing it correctly.

“Close. Bah-lihn.” 

“Oh, I am sorry.” He quickly signed it and passed it back.

“It’s alright lad. Welcome to the company.” Thorin and Balin left the study, leaving Gandalf and Bilbo alone in an easy silence.

“I expect that your Westron will improve very quickly on this quest. You will not have a chance to speak the Green Language,” Gandalf said around his pipe. Bilbo sighed and rubbed his face.

“I think they will not understand. The dwarf language is not like the Green Language. They do not have difficults.”

“Difficulty.”

“They do not have difficulty.”

“Dwarves are not as seclusive as hobbits. Don’t worry, Bilbo. Just work your way through your sentences, like you have been doing. I think you will earn their respect faster if you can impress them. Show them how quiet hobbits can truly be.”

Bilbo grinned a sly grin. “I can do that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought dwarves were a secretive race, you clearly have not met hobbits.

They set off the next day. Bilbo wished he could have packed his dictionary, but he worried about how heavy it would have made his pack. So he regretfully left it behind. He left his will and a few letters to the Thain with Hamfest, trusting him to deliver them. If he didn’t return to Bag End within two years, or they did not hear from him, Bag End was to go to Drogo and his new wife Primula. 

“Good morning, Mister Bilbo!” the hatted dwarf said cheerily. Bilbo nodded to him, trying to recall his name. “I’m Bofur, that is my brother Bombur, and that is my cousin Bifur.”

Bilbo looked over at the very round dwarf and the dwarf with an axe embedded in his head. “What is that called?” he asked.

“What is what called?”

“Mister Bifur’s head?”

“Oh! An axe?”

“THAT is axe?” Bilbo asked incredulously. Had Thorin been asking if he could use an axe? Why was it important if he could chop would or not? Unless… “And what is that?” He pointed to the sword at Fili’s waist.

“A sword?”

Bilbo scowled. “‘Axe or sword?’”

Bofur began to laugh. “Ah, I see. You didn’t know what those words were! That was why you looked so scared!”

Bilbo huffed. “We do not use sword in the Shire. Axe is for wood. My Pepa did not teach me the Westron.”

“Pepa?” Bombur asked. Bilbo turned to him.

“Pepa is father. Mema is mother.”

Bifur muttered something and Bofur laughed while Bombur blushed. “Indeed, Bifur. Pepa is pretty self-explanatory.”

“What?”

“What, what?” Bombur asked.

“What is self…self-explanry?”

“Self-explanatory?” Bofur asked.

“Self-explanatory?”

“Yes,” the star dwarf said, urging his pony forward a little to be included in the conversation. “It means obvious.”

“Oh. Thank you, Mister..?”

“Nori.”

They continued to talk as they rode. Bilbo sometimes got lost in the conversation, not understanding some of the words or having trouble discerning the words with their rough way of speaking. It was not an accent. Bilbo likened it to the way the farmers near the edges of Hobbiton spoke. Rough around the edges. But whenever it became obvious he was lost, they back tracked until he understood.

When they settled down for the night, Bilbo settled near Gandalf, needing a break from the chatter of Westron. They sat in silence, and that was ok.

The next day, Ori was riding next to him. They were talking about different books they had read when Kili rode up.

“Bilbo! What does your language sound like?”

Bilbo looked over at him, eyes narrowing slightly. He didn’t want this to lead to him teaching them his Green Language. “Have not you already heard me?” The company turned to stare at him. “What? Bell and I were talking at my smial?”

“Were you? I didn’t hear it,” Gloin said. Bilbo looked around at them all and briefly considered being very un-hobbit like and rudely telling them to leave his language alone. But then he pictured his father looking down at him and sighed.

*I don’t know what you want me to say.*

“Whoa!” Kill exclaimed, exchanging a look with Fili. “What did that mean?”

Bilbo tried to shrug like it was nothing, even though his stomach started to churn. “Nothing.”

“Can you say something else?” Ori asked, eyes wide. Bilbo looked down at his book full of blank pages.

*Please don’t write this down. I don’t want to rip your pages out of your book.*

Ori turned to his book, only to find it missing from his lap. Bilbo had leaned over and begun to flip through the pages. “This book is very…there is a lot of work.”

Ori blushed. Dori was spurring his pony forward a little, not liking how their hobbit had just taken his little brother’s book. “Thank you, Mister Baggins. I am in charge of writing down all of the events of our journey. It will be transcribed into an epic for all of Middle Earth to read.”

Bilbo nodded, wondering if he looked as pale as he felt. “Everything? I am a hobbit. Middle Earth does not know me. I am very small on this adventure.”

Bofur laughed. “We are all small, Bilbo. You fit right in with us.”

Bilbo frowned. “No, not small. I am not…not…of use.”

“You are very useful, Mister Baggins,” Balin said. He hadn’t spoken to Bilbo since they had left Bag End, and it was surprising he had even been paying attention to their conversation. He seemed stuck to Thorin’s side, and Thorin had had no reason to speak to their burglar.

Bilbo shook his head, frustrated. “No, I am one hobbit. Middle Earth does not read of me. I am not king.”

“You do not think you are important on this quest,” Gandalf said, looking away from the trees for the first time since they began to travel that morning. “You do not think Middle Earth needs to know about you in Ori’s transcriptions.”

Bilbo sighed in relief. “Yes!”

“But you are important!” Bombur exclaimed. “Without you, how will we get the Arkenstone from the dragon?”

Bilbo felt like he was going to pull out his hair. He understood THAT. But why did his everyday actions need to be recorded? They were just traveling, and Middle Earth did not need to know about his everyday activities. He looked up at Gandalf, who just smiled. It was clear that he was on his own for the most part. Gandalf would only step in if he really couldn’t get his message across.

“Yes, yes, I am important?” When Dori nodded he continued. “I am important, but we are on the adventure. We are on ponies. Why…why do you write me?”

“Oh! This is so we do not accidentally forget anything. When I write the final copy, I will not include everything that happens. This is more for reference.”

“Reference?”

“So he can look back on everything,” Fili supplied. Bilbo nodded, understanding a little.

“But…but you do not write me. Do not write my, um, my Green Language.” Bilbo’s voice became quieter as he spoke, hoping it wasn’t terribly rude of him to be asking this.

“Why not?” Gloin asked, eyeing Bilbo up and down.

“The Green Language is my language. Not for Middle Earth,” he replied, wringing his hands.

“I understand, lad,” Balin said, smiling. “It is like our Khuzdul. We do not let outsiders know about it.”

Most of the dwarves nodded. Gloin and Dori still eyed him with some suspicion. Bilbo handed Ori back his book and hoped that the conversation would move on.

“But you can teach us some phrases, right?” Kill asked. Bilbo shook his head. “Why not? We will teach you some Khuzdul! It is not uncommon for those who interact with dwarves to know a little. They just can’t know how to form full sentences and have conversations.”

“Khuzdul is very easy,” Fili added. “Same structure as Westron! You won’t have any trouble with it.”

Bilbo shook his head. “No. You know Mema and Pepa. No more.”

Kill and Fill continued to whine. Ori didn’t say anything but he kept looking at Bilbo like a child who desperately wanted some sweets. Bilbo just kept his mouth glued shut and kept his eyes forward. Gandalf had been the only non-hobbit who had been offered to have the Green Language taught to. All of the hobbits had gathered with the Thain and listened to Belladonna’s petition. They argued about it for two weeks before they came to the decision to let him learn. But Gandalf had turned their offer down, telling them that though it was a great honor, he would not learn their language. He had said that there were few good and pure secrets left in the world, and he wanted to try to make this one last.

Bilbo wholeheartedly agreed with Gandalf. Even if he had wanted to teach these dwarves, he would have to petition the Shire. If he went behind their backs, he risked being shamed and kicked out. No amount of gold or jewels could even tempt him into teaching them.

This went on for two weeks. Bilbo was getting to the point where he was sorely tempted to turn around and go straight home. Leave these foolish dwarves to their own fate.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, if Bilbo had been more familiar with Gandalf growing up like my Bilbo is, there is no way he'd risk danger with the trolls the way Peter Jackson's Bilbo did. My Bilbo has his wits about him from all of Gandalf's stories growing up.

“Can you bring these to the lads, Bilbo?” Bofur asked, holding out two bowls of stew. Bilbo sighed and took them, turning to walk into the forest where the boys were watching the ponies. When he arrived, they were strangely still.

“We are missing two ponies,” Fill muttered. Bilbo looked around, silently counting.

“I will go to Thorin.” Someone grabbed his shirt before he could get very far. 

“No, no, no. Why would we need Uncle when we have our burglar right here?” Kill exclaimed. “Look, there’s a light in the distance. That must be where to ponies are!”

Before Bilbo knew it, he was creeping forward toward the ponies while staying out of the sight of three massive trolls. He didn’t know what an owl was, so he couldn’t default back to Kill and Fill to get him out of whatever situation he might possibly land himself in. He only hoped they were paying attention.

The stupid trolls didn’t notice him. He was proving how silent he truly was. At one point, the one who was cooking swept his eyes across the ponies, right over Bilbo’s small form, but didn’t notice him. Bilbo managed to get to the ponies, but getting them out was another matter. He whispered to them in his Green Language to calm them down.

*It will be ok. I will get you out and you will be safe.*

Bilbo ducked down into the tall grass, making his way in between the hastily made corral the trolls had made to hold the ponies. He crept to the back of it so he could get the ponies out from the back. He was just about to slowly push one of the poles down when he heard battle cries behind him. He groaned as he watched the dwarves rush into battle. He quickly stood and pushed down one of the polls.

*Go, run away!* he called softly to the ponies. They quickly rushed out, followed by one hobbit. He melted into the forest, watching. He crept around the edge of the battle, finding a tree to shimmy up. He cringed as Kili was swept up by two of the trolls, forcing the company to surrender. He tried not to laugh as half were thrown into sack and half were tied to a spit to be roasted over the fire.

Bilbo watched it all, hoping to find an area of weakness quickly so they could avoid losing their company. 

“Will you hurry up? I’d like to eat before the sun comes up!” one of the trolls chastised the one cooking. Bilbo’s eyes shot up to the sky. It was slowly becoming lighter, so all he had to do was distract them until the sunlight hit them.

*Hey! You ugly things! Why don’t you eat someone your own size?* Bilbo shouted, trying to make his voice deeper. He leapt from his tree, easily and silently making his way around the clearing while the half-witted trolls attempted to locate the voice. 

*You’re lousy cooks! Don’t you know that dwarves are better stewed than roasted?* Bilbo allowed himself a laugh before quickly and quietly moving to a different tree. On and on he went, sending the trolls on a wild goose chase. The dwarves never ceased their insults, but they, too, began to look around for the source of the voice. Bilbo almost gave himself up when one of them directed their insults at him rather than the trolls. After everything he was doing to help them!

A flash of gray caught Bilbo’s eye. He skidded to a stop in the dense oak branches, watching the wizard make his presence known to the trolls and company. He split the rock and Bilbo laughed as the trolls turned to stone. He didn’t make himself known yet, wanting to see how the dwarves reacted.

“Gandalf! Get us down!” Dwalin yelled. The wizard shook his head in exasperation, making his way over. 

“Now, how on earth did you manage to get yourselves into this?”

The company all began to speak at once. Bilbo clenched his teeth as many of them threw the blame at him. He was not the one who had run into battle for no reason! He was doing perfectly fine before they threw all common sense out the window.

“The foolish halfling barreled head on into a troll camp to rescue ponies without any sense for his actions!” A deep voice cut through the din. Bilbo narrowed his eyes at Thorin and slowly moved around the trees to the one right behind the annoying king. “He nearly cost us our lives!”

Gandalf looked down at the king with disapproval in his eyes. “And tell me, how did the ponies fall into the trolls hands?” Fill and Kill fidgeted. “And tell me, where is our hobbit?”

As if they were suddenly awoken from a deep sleep, the dwarves began to look around wildly. A few cried out in alarm, thinking that their hobbit had been eaten by the trolls already. Kill and Fill looked to be on the edge of panic.

Bilbo dropped down from the tree, making no sound. He walked up to Gandalf’s side, watching the chaos. Gandalf looked down at him, smiling in exasperation. “You did well to play for time. I must say, your tree leaping is the same as when you were a fauntling. Surely, no easy feat when I suspect you haven’t been tree climbing in years.”

The hobbit beamed up at the wizard. “Thank you, Gandalf. That is very good to hear.”

Thorin was the first to notice Bilbo’s appearance. His eyes widened and then narrowed. Bilbo smiled his friendly host smile at him. The king cleared his throat and the company, almost all at once, noticed Bilbo. There were cries of surprise and disbelief with a few sighs of relief.

“Where did you come from?!” Gloin cried.

“The trees,” Bilbo answered. He brushed a leaf off of his sleeves. “I think the ponies are there, go past the…the…” His mind went blank on the name of the tree. He looked up at Gandalf.

“Maple trees.”

“They are there, go past the maple trees.”

“When did you set them free?” Balin asked.

“When you ran in. I was there,” he pointed to the corral, “getting the ponies. Fill and Kill told me to. I was ok, but you all ran in. So I climbed a tree and yelled at the trolls. Gandalf came and now they are dead.”

The company was silent. Understanding and what looked like a little guilt slowly creeped over their faces. Thorin’s face was unreadable, but his eyes were shining in an odd way.

“Come, let us move on. These trolls could not have come far. Let us try to find their hoard,” Gandalf decided, walking away from the company. Bilbo quickly followed before he was sent back to gather their supplies.

“It is interesting the amount of trouble you can get in while I am away,” Gandalf said casually, eyes shining. 

Bilbo scoffed. “Fools fauntlings.”

“Foolish fauntlings.”

“They told me to go and get the ponies. So I did. But they came like I was in trouble. I was not!”

Gandalf chuckled. “Let them play the brave warriors. Every group of warriors needs at least one person with a little common sense.”

Bilbo smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Bilbo's father hadn't been a Baggins, he would have beaten up the dwarves by this point and wouldn't have even stopped to ask Lord Elrond any questions before attacking. It's up to you to determine if this is a good thing or not

Bilbo doubled over, coughing. They had escaped the wargs and orcs. It was a miracle they were alive. He fought to recover his breath, not paying much attention to the conversations around him. They didn’t really matter because he knew they were just arguing about elves.

A hand rested on his back, rubbing slow circles. He glanced up at Bofur smiling down at him. “Easy there, lad. Take your time. Just breathe.”

Bilbo’s breath slowly came back to him. By the time it did, the others were heading off down the mysterious path at the back of the cave. They walked for a while before they were suddenly in the open air and the hobbit gasped.

Rivendell.

Gandalf strolled leisurely down the path while the dwarves trailed uneasily. Bilbo rolled his eyes at their mistrust of the elves. Even though it did not have the same homely feel as the Shire, Rivendell seemed to have an underlying sense of the earth that made Bilbo feel safe.

Gandalf greeted the elf waiting for them. The dwarves yelled battle cries when the elves on horses began to circle them. Bilbo rolled his eyes at the hostility shown on both sides. This was petty.

When Lord Elrond made himself known, the hobbit looked up at him in awe. Everything his mother had ever told him about the elf was true. Gandalf and Lord Elrond talked for a moment while the elf’s eyes swept across the company. When they landed on Bilbo, his eyebrows went up and he offered a serene smile.

*Welcome Bilbo Baggins, son of Belledonna Took and Bungo Baggins. I had hoped that we might meet in this lifetime.*

Bilbo felt like he had been punched in the gut, and he could barely sense the looks of shock on the dwarves’ faces when they noticed the absolute rage that seemed to wash over their burglar. They had never seen him so upset. Gandalf, for his part, tried to mask his surprise.

“How…Why…You!” he finally managed, marching forward. The dwarves moved out of his way. “How do you know?”

“Peace, *my friend*. Years ago I was offered by the hobbits to learn your language. It would not surprise me if you did not know about it. It was when your race was moving to the Shire and I offered them my aid.”

The hobbit stared up at Lord Elrond with doubt in his eyes. He reached out his hand, palm facing up. The elf knelt and rested his hand on top of Bilbo’s. They both spread their fingers and grasped each other’s forearms. Bilbo’s doubt fell away and his face broke into a wide smile.

*May the Green Lady bless you with rain and sunshine. You are a true hobbit friend.*

*May the Green Lady guide your hands while you work. I thank you for the great honor bestowed upon me.*

Bilbo shook his head. *Thank you for your kindness.*

“Enough of this useless talk, we don’t have time for traitorous words.” Bilbo’s ear twitched at Dwalin’s gruff murmur. It had truly been very quiet, but he whipped his head towards him, eyes blazing. He caught the dwarf off guard. Perhaps no one in the company knew the extent of a hobbit’s ears. Lord Elrond straightened and offered them rooms and food. There were a few grumbles of complaints, but Bilbo forced himself to ignore them. He could only handle so much drama in one day.

He sat near Lord Elrond for dinner, blocking out the dwarves’ complaints of the lack of meat. He instead listened to the discussion of the swords they found in the troll hoard. He wondered if his sword had a wonderful name given in the heat of battle, but Balin let him down easy by explaining that it was probably more of a dagger than sword, only used as a back up.

When they were shown to their quarters, Bilbo held back, wishing to speak with Lord Elrond.

He caught him while he was walking around the gardens. *Lord Elrond! Do you have some time?*

*Of course, my friend. It has been a long time sense I have spoken to someone in the Green Language.*

*I wanted to apologize for my reaction earlier.*

Elrond smiled down at him. *There is no need. Your mother had a very similar reaction. Though,* Here he paused, reminiscing. *Though, she tried to fight me with her little dagger.*

Bilbo laughed. He had seen his mother whip that dagger out of no where many times to scare off anyone who thought she could be pushed around because she settled down and married a Baggins. 

The two of them talked for a long time. Bilbo told Lord Elrond everything that had happened once Belledonna Took settled down in the Shire, and in return, Lord Elrond told Bilbo of the hobbits of old making their way across Middle Earth in search of a home where no one would bother them because of their language.

When he finally returned to the dwarves, he was received with many different looks. Some held suspicion, others held curiosity. A few were downright murderous. He rolled his eyes and began to get ready for bed. He would deal with their needless doubts and stubbornness another day. He was tired and looked forward to sleeping in an actual bed. But before he could turn down the covers, Balin appeared at the foot of his bed.

“Come with me, laddie. Gandalf wants you to be present.”

“Present? For what?”

Balin did not answer. He instead fixated Bilbo with a look that said he shouldn’t ask any questions.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter explains the Green Language more and hobbit culture. I promise, a chapter where everything is made clear is coming soon. Feel free to ask me any questions in the comments if you are confused. :)

The Hobbit watched Thorin and Gandalf argue from the corner of the room. He sighed and shot Lord Elrond a look of apology for his traveling companion’s stubbornness. The elf simply nodded, turning his attention back to the two with an impressively blank face.

When Thorin finally handed over the map, Bilbo moved closer, wishing to see the moon runes. It was incredible to him that such a language could be forgotten by a race, but still in the memories of another. He wondered if, sometime in the future, Hobbits would disappear. The only person who would remember their language stood before him. He wondered if keeping their language their own was the wisest decision.

Bilbo shook his head slightly. The Green Language was a language given to them by the Green Lady. It was her gift to them, and they all deeply treasured it. They could use it to keep their lands fertile and their animals happy. If anyone else knew of its power, they could kidnap hobbits or force them to teach the language. No one was even sure if another being could speak the Green Language and be able to manipulate the earth. No one knew if that was purely a hobbit ability or the Green Language ability. All the more reason to keep their language to themselves.

He really should ask Lord Elrond later if he could manipulate the earth.

“Durin’s Day,” Balin said, pulling the Hobbit out of his thoughts. 

“It will be upon us soon,” Thorin muttered. 

“What is Durin’s Day?” Bilbo asked.

“It signifies the changing of the seasons. That is the only day we can enter the mountain.”

“So this is your plan?” Lord Elrond asked, eyes narrow. “To enter the mountain?”

“What of it?” Thorin all but growled.

“Some would not deem it wise.”

Bilbo sighed and shook his head. “This adventure is our adventure, Lord Elrond. You cannot stop us.”

The elf looked carefully at him. “No, I suppose not. Though I question your motivation to enter the mountain and put yourself in such danger.”

“Motivation?”

“Enough,” Thorin snapped. “This is our quest. We will not be stopped by any meddling elf.” He turned on his heel, Balin trailing behind him. Gandalf sighed and shook his head.

*Motivation, my friend,* Lord Elrond said, not looking away from the doorway the two dwarves just left through. *And though I admire your courage to leave the Shire to help the dwarves, I question their attitude towards you.*

Gandalf looked between the two of them curiously. Bilbo sighed. *You cannot like everyone you meet, my friend. There are some dwarves who are becoming my friends, and the others just have not warmed up to me.*

*Though that may be true, you cannot ignore their side comments or the way they act when you make mistakes when you speak.*

Bilbo chewed on the inside of his cheek, considering Lord Elrond’s words. He had noticed some of the dwarves brushing him off when he made mistakes while speaking. But he hadn’t really thought about why they did that. He had simply blamed it on the fact that they did not seem to particularly like him. But that begged the question why they had such a strong dislike of him.

Lord Elrond turned to Gandalf and said something in Sindarin. Gandalf nodded and moved into a different room.

*Please reconsider your mission with these dwarves, my friend. I do not wish Belledonna’s child to needlessly risk his life for those who would not even properly grieve.*

Bilbo nodded and turned to leave. His ears picked up a light shuffle behind a column. He glanced over his shoulder to Lord Elrond, but found he was already gone. He walked over, feet making no sound against the smooth floor. He ducked behind the column and came face to face with Dwalin.

They stared at each other for a long while. Bilbo tilted his head, wondering if he had followed them for the map or for another reason. But Dwalin gave himself away by the way his eyes darted down to the ground for a second, almost in shame. The Hobbit nodded, inhaling deeply. He turned and began to walk back to their quarters. He didn’t hear Dwalin following him, which was probably for the best. He didn’t know if he could handle the implications of that.

When he made it back to their quarters, the dwarves were peacefully breaking furniture to build a fire in the middle of the room. He heaved a sigh and sat down next to Bofur, watching him roast a sausage. 

“Bilbo?” Ori piped up from his spot across from them. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, you can.”

“What was that handshake you did with Lord Elrond when we arrived?”

Bilbo gave a soft smile. The reason he knew he could trust Lord Elrond was because of this. Hobbits would only teach this to those they trusted. There was a very real possibility earlier that some poor hobbit had been forced to teach the Green Language, but unless you knew about this greeting beforehand, no hobbit would teach it. While he could not share the Green Language, Hobbit culture was free for him to give to anyone he trusted. “It is the Greeting of the Green Lady. I can teach you. Come here.”

Ori quickly moved over to his side, eyes curious and excited. The Hobbit taught him the greeting, reciting what everything meant from the deepest parts of his memories.

“The hands are for gardening. A gardener must care for his plants with a light and gentle touch. The arms are for the earth that the Green Lady has blessed us with. It is a rich soil that must be harnessed with a firm grip so that a bountiful harvest can be provided.”

When he looked up, he realized the company was staring at him. 

“I didn’t know you had it in you!” Bofur laughed, slapping his back. Bombur shook his head and Dori muttered something to Gloin that even Hobbit ears could not make out.

“What?”

“Were you holding out on us as a joke?” Fill asked, humor in his voice. Kill was holding back laughter.

“I am sorry? I do not know what you are saying? I was, I was ‘holding out?’ What does that mean?”

Suddenly the mood in the room dropped. Some looks became darker and the humor was gone. 

“Forgive me, lad,” Balin started, “but you just spoke Westron perfectly. And now you are back to the way you normally speak. We are all a little confused.”

“Must be magic,” Oin muttered. Bilbo refrained from shooting him a dirty look.

“Every fauntling learns the Greeting of the Green Lady. I do not know when, but I only remember my pepa teaching me. My pepa was, um…he knew all Westron?”

“He was fluent?” Ori supplied. 

“Yes. My mema, too. When I say his teaching, I say what he says.”

“You repeat what he says?” Kili asked.

“Yes. He says his teaching a lot, so I do not forget.”

“Said,” Ori mumbled. Bilbo nodded in thanks.

The tension in the room lessened, but he still felt on edge. Lord Elrond’s words bounced around in his head. Was this quest truly worth the company’s mistrust and unknown prejudice? He didn’t even understand why the dwarves didn’t like the fact he didn’t speak fluent Westron.

When no one was looking, he slipped out of the room to once again wander around Rivendell.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's everyone's favorite mountain scene

“Halfling, try to keep up.”

Bilbo tore his eyes away from the pale light that had begun to fill the valley to trudge on. He had hoped that they would stay another day so he could ask Lord Elrond a few more questions, but their leader was right. With Durin’s Day approaching they had to get moving. 

The mountain range that lay before them didn’t look pleasant. They didn’t know what dangers could be lurking. They also didn’t anticipate the dangers of Hobbit feet.

When it began to rain, Bilbo had a hard time keeping himself on the path. He kept slipping and nearly falling down into the rocks below. Dwalin, who was walking behind him, was there to grab him and keep him from falling. Bilbo tried not to dwell on the fact that just a few days before he had caught the dwarf spying on him for an unknown reason.

“Look out!” someone shouted. They looked up to great rock giants fighting above them. Suddenly, they were being separated. The rock beneath them moved and they realized that they were stuck on the knees of one of the rock giants. Bilbo gripped the rock behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut and mumbled a prayer to the Green Lady as they were hurtled towards the face of the mountain. 

But the pain never came. Instead, there was a moment of his feet against solid ground. But when he opened his eyes it was replaced with a free fall. He scrambled for some sort of ledge to grab. He held on for his dear life.

“Where’s Bilbo?”

“Where’s the Hobbit?”

Bilbo couldn’t even shout out that he was there. All his concentration was on not letting go.

“Bilbo!” 

Panicked shouts filled the air and Bofur was reaching down to him. He couldn’t bring himself to let for even a moment to try and reach up to the outstretched hand. 

Suddenly someone was shoving him up into Bofur’s arms. Bilbo was pulled against the face of the mountain. He looked up in time to see Dwalin pull Thorin up off the ledge. 

“We nearly lost our Hobbit!” 

“He has been lost since the start. Only thinking of his armchair and books. He cannot even speak properly. He has no place among us.”

Bilbo stared up at their leader, heart still racing from his near death experience. The words registered almost in slow motion. His stomach sunk and he wondered if his mother had ever known anything like this while out on her adventures.

Bofur helped him to his feet and kept a hand on his back as they made their way to the cave Dwalin had found. The company was strangely quiet as they prepared to sleep. It wasn’t clear if it was because of the deaths that almost happened, the exhaustion creeping through their bones, or the words that had been shouted to the wind.

Bilbo lay in the dark of the cave, staring up at the ceiling. Thorin’s harsh words echoed around in his head. It made his insides boil. He could not even speak properly? He could speak just fine, he just didn’t know every word in Westron! If only they knew he managed a huge part of Hobbiton by himself without any advisors, like other heads of families did. He wished he could show them how he helped the Thain run the Shire. He could speak!

With his fists curled tight he sat up and began to pack up, not caring if he was being loud. Some dwarves stirred in their sleep around him, but he couldn’t care less. He was going back to Rivendell. He hoped they made it to the mountain in time, but they would be doing it without him.

“Bilbo? Where are you going?” Bofur whispered. He flinched. He had forgotten that Bofur was on guard duty first. 

“I am going to Rivendell. And then I am going to the Shire. Goodbye.”

“No! You can’t go! Thorin didn’t really mean that. He was just frustrated. You’re a part of the company!”

“Bofur, I am not. They do not like me. They do not like my talk. I know. I see. You are kind, but they are not. I cannot go.”

“They just need to warm up to you! You’re a little homesick right now, I understand-“

“No! You do not! I have the Shire, but you do not! You do not feel sick for home because you do not have one! You do not feel bad about your language because you do not need it!”

The silence that followed almost felt louder than their conversation. Bilbo could tell that his meaning about needing his language did not come out like he intended. He hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but he had. He felt ashamed as the light in Bofur’s eyes dimmed.

“You’re right. We don’t truly belong anywhere. But you do, and you don’t deserve to be dragged around Middle Earth. I hope you have a safe journey back. Be careful.” He clasped Bilbo’s shoulder, offering him a smile.

The Hobbit turned to go, but a flash of light caught his attention. He looked down at his sword, pulling it out to expose the bright blue light.

A crack appeared in the ground and Thorin leapt to his feet, shouting for everyone to wake up. Before he could comprehend what was happening, he was falling.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short, sorry. Next chapter will be more drama

It was dark and cold deep in the caves of the Misty Mountains. Bilbo had woken up with a horrible headache and pain over his entire body. But he pushed it aside to wander through the mountain, trying to find a way out. It would do him no good if he stayed where he was and wallowed in his own pity.

He heard water splashing in the distance and someone singing an odd song about things that were good to eat. He crept towards it slowly. The blue light that had been glowing persistently from his sword suddenly flickered out. He didn’t know if that was a good sign or not.

By the time Bilbo realized the singing had stopped, the creature of the mountain was already creeping up on him.

“Well bless us and splash us precious,” it said, voice high and raspy. “It carries an elvish blade, but it is not an elf. What is it?”

“I am a hobbit,” Bilbo said, holding his sword out in front of him to keep the creature at bay. It eyed him warily, slowly creeping around him, trying to find an opening to attack.

“Hobbitses? We’ve never tried a hobbitses before. Is it tender? Is it juicy?”

“Stay away!” Bilbo cried, swinging his sword awkwardly to make the creature back up. “I want a path out of the mountain. I do not want a game.”

“Games!” it cried, hopping around excitedly. “Yes precious, we likes games!”

“Ok, what game?” he asked, wary.

It spouted a riddle, but Bilbo couldn’t understand half of what he said. He took a deep breath, sending a quick prayer to the Green Lady as an unidentifiable feeling sunk deep into his stomach. “I am sorry, but I do not know what you said. Westron is not my first language.”

It coughed, making a strange hacking sound. “Yes, precious, it does not know. It loses the games. It is ours!”

It suddenly leapt at Bilbo, a rock in hand. He fell backwards. There was a moment where he was sure that this was the end, that he would die here. He closed his eyes and pictured the Shire, his parents waving to him from their garden. They were welcoming him home. He’d be with them once again.

There was a sharp pain to the side of his head and a strange whimpering sound and a lot of weight on him. But beyond that it was silent. Dazed, Bilbo opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the top of the creatures head. Beyond that was a bloody sword sticking out of its back. Bilbo gasped and scrambled backwards. He made it far enough to get out from underneath the creature before he blacked out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dramaaaaaaaaaa

There was a dull pain throughout Bilbo’s entire body, but an even sharper pain in his head. He could sense that he was moving, but he didn’t understand how. Perhaps he was dead and he was being taken to meet the Green Lady. He wondered if she would commend him for his bravery or scold him for giving up everything just to die alone at the bottom of a mountain.

His eyes began to register the rocks around him were moving. He had been slowly coming to before, but now he was alert. Everything came rushing back. He had woken up next to that creature and managed to pull his sword out. He had wandered around the strange lake and found a passageway that didn’t have such foul air. He stumbled around in the dark, hoping to find something.

Bilbo realized that he could see his feet and his sword. He looked up and saw a faint light in the distance. Even though his head was screaming at him, he moved faster. He heard shouts ahead and stopped, pressing himself against the rock wall. A tall figure dressed in gray was shouting at a group of dwarves, telling them to hurry and move faster. 

Bilbo stumbled forward, trying to catch their attention, but they were already gone. He squeezed out of the small opening and chased after them. He could hear them in the distance, but he could not see them. They were too far ahead. The only chance he had at catching up was if they stopped.

The Green Lady was finally giving him some luck, because their voices became louder. He slowed down, trying to regain his breathing.

“…10, 11, 12, 13. 13. Where is Bilbo?”

There was silence. Gandalf spoke again, “Where is Bilbo? Where is our hobbit?”

“He was right behind us! Wasn’t he?”

“Who saw him last?”

“I thought he was with Bofur!”

“I saw him,” Nori muttered. “He continued to fall. I saw him disappear into the darkness.”

“So you have lost him,” Gandalf whispered. Bilbo was almost upon them. He opened his mouth to call out to them, to reassure his friend that his was alive. That he had made it out of the mountain when another voice spoke. 

“We did not lose him. He saw his chance and took it. He is long gone. We will not be seeing him again.”

Bilbo pressed himself up against a tree, wondering if he should even come forward. He truly did not understand why there was this bias against him, but it hadn’t even crossed his mind to stay away from them once he had found them. Even though he had tried to leave before this mess, all he wanted to do now was help them. He wanted to make sure they did not die alone and scared at the bottom of a mountain like he almost had. 

He took a deep breath and stepped out, allowing the sunlight to warm his skin. “No, he is not.”

“Bilbo!” Gandalf exclaimed, moving forward. He swept the hobbit up into his arms before stepping back to look at him. His relief changed to that of concern. “Oh my dear boy, what happened to you?”

“What?”

Gandalf reached up to touch the side of his head, and Bilbo winced at the sharp pain that came with it. When the wizard pulled away, Bilbo saw blood on his fingers. He quickly reached up and felt for the spot that was causing him pain. His hand had blood on it when he drew away. He stared down in shock. 

*Gandalf, I didn’t know. I was attacked by a creature in that mountain. It had a rock, and I thought it just hurt me. I didn’t know I was bleeding. Is this bad? Does this mean I will die? Gandalf, am I going to die?* He could feel himself panicking. He didn’t understand why the wizard wasn’t answering him. He felt hands on his shoulder guiding him to sit down. He continued to babble, not even realizing that he wasn’t speaking Westron.

Oin appeared in front of him. He was doing something to his head and every time Bilbo flinched the dwarf just followed him. He felt his head being wrapped up. Oin stepped away, looking satisfied.

“The lad should be good for now. He has a concussion for sure, but there is little I can do for him when we are out in the open like this.”

“Concussion?”

“It means that you have a bad head injury,” Gandalf supplied gently.

*Does it mean concussion?*

“For Mahal’s sake, can’t you speak Westron?” Thorin muttered. Bilbo’s eyes snapped to the dwarf. Gandalf’s hand tightened on his shoulder, perhaps in a warning. He ignored it and stood slowly, wishing that the world would stop turning for half a second.

“I can speak Westron. I am trying very hard to speak Westron. But I do not know all Westron. The Green Language is very, very different from Westron. It is hard for Hobbits.”

“Why is it so hard? You are not in the Shire anymore. Why can’t you just speak normally?”

Bilbo felt his anger boiling deep within him. Speak normally? He wanted so badly to speak normally, but then no one would be able to understand him. Everything he had been told about the Green Language and its secrets went flying out of his mind.

“Westron is not normal! It is a bad language! It does not help! I can help the earth and the animals! You cannot! You are a bad person! The Green Language is good! Leave me alone!”

While Bilbo was shouting, he felt that deep anger boiling deeper and deeper into him. He couldn’t see properly. He screamed the last sentence and the earth shook. Tall grass shot out from the ground, growing taller than even Gandalf and surrounding the dwarves. Bilbo and Gandalf were the only ones spared, standing in the middle of the chaos. Bilbo blinked many times, wondering if his head injury was finally getting to him.

“Bilbo,” Gandalf whispered. Bilbo turned to look up at the wizard, dazed. He could hear the dwarves shouting, but he didn’t understand what they were saying. He could only see Gandalf before the spinning of the world crashed down on him and he let himself go.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter, but Bilbo was unconscious for the majority of this scene

The first thing Bilbo registered were shouts of distress and an intense heat. He blinked a few times. When the bright orange light did not go away, he started. They were surrounded by fire! He began to fidget and an arm wrapped around his torso.

“Peace, Bilbo,” Gandalf said. The Hobbit looked around at the scene that lay before him. The company was sitting in a tree at the edge of a cliff while a group of orcs and wargs watched from beyond the fire. He could almost feel the roots of the tree straining to stay in the ground while the fire raged. He held his breath, waiting for the free fall to begin.

When it did, he gripped the tree branch as tight as he could and prayed to the Green Lady. But instead of falling completely off the cliff, the tree remained suspended above the drop. Bilbo looked around at the company suspended above their death. Well, all but one. 

Thorin was standing up on the trunk of the tree, sword drawn. Bilbo followed his line of sight to a pale orc that he remembered hearing about from Balin so long ago. He swallowed as Thorin charged.

He looked over at Gandalf. He was trying to keep Dori and Ori from falling to their deaths and was talking to what looked like a moth. Bilbo knew this was foolish, but he began to try and pull himself up so he was steady. He knew that Thorin was no match for this pale orc in his tired state. He grimaced as the pale orc hit him square in the face and its warg threw him to the ground. He drew his sword and charged at the orc that was bearing down on their leader.

He plunged his sword into the orc. He’d never forget its screams of pain as it died. He quickly stood and put himself between the pale orc and Thorin. Somewhere deep in his mind there was a little voice that was telling him he was making a mistake. That he should just let the stubborn dwarf die. 

But how could he? Even though he hadn’t been kind to Bilbo, Thorin was the king of his friends. Thorin was needed for the good of Erebor. Fill was not ready to take up that responsibility yet. But even beyond that, Bilbo couldn’t let someone die just because they hadn’t been particularly nice to him. That was a selfish and cruel way of thinking. He banished the little voice to the back of his mind along with the pain in his head.

The pale orc said something in its horrible tongue but didn’t get far before the rest of the dwarves attacked. Bilbo turned to move to Thorin’s side to assess his wounds, but stopped short. A huge eagle was gently picking him up and carrying him away. All around him eagles were swooping down and carrying off orcs and wargs only to drop them off of the cliff or gently carrying the company away into the distance.

The Hobbit looked up into the sky at the eagle that was approaching him. He sheathed his sword and let it pick him up and drop him onto the back of another eagle. He grabbed its feathers and tried not to think about what could be waiting for him when they landed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, here are some answers to your questions. I won't post the next chapter for a few days because I am in the middle of applying for university. Thank you for your patience and your comments! I really enjoy reading them and hearing from you guys! :)

The sun was rising when they were dropped onto a large rock. As the eagles flew away, the dwarves and Gandalf gathered around Thorin. Bilbo held back, wringing his hands and hoping their leader would be ok. He didn’t know what had happened between him passing out and them facing the orcs and wargs in the trees, but judging from the looks he was receiving from the dwarves, it wasn’t anything good.

He didn’t blame them, though. He himself was incredibly confused about the tall grass appearing. Had he been the one to do that? He remembered being more angry than he had ever been in his life and his head feeling like it was going to explode. He thought back to every story his father had ever told him about hobbits. None had described hobbits being able to conjure plants that quickly.

Bilbo heard Thorin gasp for air and he looked up, holding his breath. When their leader’s breathing evened out, he let the air out, relieved. 

“The hobbit?”

“He is safe.”

The dwarves backed up as their leader made his way towards Bilbo. Thorin had a strange look in his eyes that made Bilbo feel uneasy.

“You. Why did you do that? Why did you kill that orc and face down Azog?”

Bilbo swallowed. “Um, I,” he paused, searching for the right words. “You do not need to die because I am angry. I can help, so I did.”

“You could help,” Gandalf murmured, knowing his hobbit ears would pick it up.

“Yes, I could help, so I did. I, um…did not die in the mountain, but…”

“You almost died,” Gandalf supplied. 

“Yes, I almost died in the mountain, and I did not want you to die. I will be a bad person if I can do something but do not do it because I am angry.”

The company stared at him. He began to fidget under their gazes. Suddenly, Thorin stepped forward and hugged him. Bilbo didn’t move. He was entirely confused. 

“I apologize for my behavior,” Thorin said. “It was selfish and bigoted.”

Bilbo nodded as the dwarf stepped back. He filed bigoted away to ask the meaning for later. The dwarves surrounded him, patting him on the back and offerings words of thanks. He just nodded, baffled about the whole situation.

“Is that..?”

Everyone moved away from him so suddenly he thought his concussion was messing with him. Bilbo turned around and his eyes widened at the sight of a tall, lonely mountain in the distance. It looked almost ethereal in the morning mist. He wondered if it was possible to wish to see a place more than the Shire.

“Erebor,” Thorin breathed out. The dwarves were smiling. Gandalf placed his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and offered a kind look.

“You have done well, my friend. Come, let’s start to make our way down off of this rock.”

Bilbo nodded, though all he wanted to do was lay down. They needed to find a place to rest and decide what to do about all of their missing supplies. The company followed Gandalf down some old and weathered stairs that were carved into the rock. They made it to the bottom a little before midday.

“Kili, try to hunt something down. Anyone not requiring Oin’s attention can start making traps and assembling a fire,” Thorin ordered. Ori was the only one who needed a burn on his hand wrapped to prevent infection. The rest of the company began to assemble camp in the shade of the giant rock. 

Oin saw to Thorin first. Bilbo began look around the area for some fruit bushes and wild vegetables. He found some mushrooms not far from their little camp and a blackberry bush. He smiled victoriously and hummed while he picked the fruit. Humming helped his headache a little.

When he arrived back at camp, Oin was finishing up and Kili and Fili were dragging back a large deer. Bombur quickly began to prepare it for the fire that Gloin and Bifur had managed to get going. Bilbo gave his findings to the round dwarf and moved to sit down near Gandalf. Before he could get far, Oin was grabbing his arm. He squeaked in surprise as he was forced to sit down in front of the healer.

“Sit still, lad. I don’t have all of my supplies, but I’ll do my best.”

Bilbo sat straight like his father taught him as Oin unwrapped his head. Ori hovered nearby, looking back and forth between the hobbit and the others.

“Ori?”

“Yes, Bilbo?” he answered, alert.

“What is bigoted?”

“It means that you think you are better than someone and you think that their thoughts don’t matter.”

Bilbo nodded and was immediately chastised by Oin. 

Soon everyone was eating the stew Bombur had prepared and the events of the past twenty four hours were catching up. Bilbo was keenly aware of everyone’s eyes on him. Gandalf placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, directing his attention from his nearly empty bowl up to the wizard’s face.

“My boy, I know you do not want to share much about the Green Language, but I think we need to sort out our differences and figure out everything that has happened.”

“Gandalf…”

“The dwarves have something similar to the Swearing. They will not tell a soul.”

His eyes snapped to Thorin to confirm what the wizard was saying.

“The Swearing?” their leader asked.

Bilbo nodded hesitantly. “You swear to never say what you know. Or you die.”

“Yes, we have something similar,” Balin said. “If we tell anyone, we risk our hair being cut and being banished from civilization.”

Bilbo considered the company before sighing and giving in. “Ok. How do you do the Swearing?”

Fill pulled out one of his daggers and cut an inch off of a strand of hair. He passed the blade to Kili who swallowed and did the same. Soon, everyone was holding a lock of their hair. Bilbo considered doing the same, but decided against it as hair was not as serious as it was to dwarves. He instead did what hobbits do. He dug a hole in the ground and placed his feet inside and covered them with dirt.

“Gandalf? Can you say the Swearing?”

“Of course. Do you swear to never speak again of what you are being told?”

The dwarves responded in Khuzdul. Bilbo looked up at Gandalf, who nodded and continued. “Do you swear to keep the secrets from even the earth? Do you swear to keep the secrets from even the maker?”

Bilbo assumed the last part was from the way the dwarves performed the swearing. When Gandalf nodded the dwarves threw their locks of hair into the fire and Bilbo removed his feet from the earth. He took a deep breath.

“The Green Language is not only a language. I can speak to the plants and animals. I can help grow and help, um, help animals life?” He looked up at Gandalf.

“You can guide animals through their lives.”

“Yes, I can guide animals through their lives.”

“So can make plants grow like the grass?” Bofur asked.

“No. The grass is, um, I do not know. Growing is a long time. The Green Language helps so the plants and animals are the best. The grass, I do not know.” 

“Hobbits do not have the ability to make plants grow as fast as the grass did,” Gandalf said when it became obvious the dwarves did not understand. “What Bilbo did there was very strange and I have never witnessed anything like that happening before. Hobbits are a farming folk. Their language helps plants grow so that the harvest is always plentiful and animals will always remain calm and healthy. You may have noticed that the vegetables at Bilbo’s smial tasted better and looked better than even Rivendell’s.”

“Why?” Fili asked. “How?”

“The Green Lady gave the Green Language to us,” Bilbo said. “She is kind and wants our life to be good.”

“There is a reason Bilbo has so much reverence towards the Green Lady,” Gandalf said. “She is the reason the Shire is the way it is and the reason hobbits are the way they are.”

Bilbo knew everyone was thinking back to that first week of the journey when Nori and Fili had been joking around and began acting like what they thought the Green Lady would be like. They had placed grass and wild flowers in their hair and spoke in a high, soft voice. They moved around the camp like they were beggars and scolded Kili when he stole the flowers from their hair. 

Bilbo had gone white as a sheet and then dark red. He couldn’t even speak properly as he quickly left the camp. Gandalf made them stop and told them to never do it again, even though he couldn’t explain why. He left soon after to retrieve their hobbit and no one spoke of the incident ever again.

“Hobbits do not know if people…um…not hobbits can use the Green Language. I did not talk to Lord Elrond.”

“How does Lord Elrond know the Green Language? He just said that he offered aid to the hobbits when they came to Shire and they taught him?” Ori asked. Bilbo nodded.

“Hobbits did not live in Shire before. I do not know where we live before.”

“Where you lived before,” Gandalf said.

“Yes, I do not know where we lived before. But Lord Elrond helped the hobbits. It is a big…big honor to learn the Green Language. Gandalf almost learned.”

“Really?” Balin asked. Everyone focused on the wizard, who was preparing his pipe. 

“Yes. I traveled with Bilbo’s mother, Belledonna, for a time. She saved my life and I saved her life many times. She got it into her head that to repay me, I was to be taught the Green Language.” Here he paused, thinking. “I think it would be like if you offered me the Arkenstone for everything I have done for you.”

The dwarves gave little shouts of surprise, understanding the gravity of being taught the Green Language.

“Yes, it was a completely ridiculous notion. I had not done anything as important as Lord Elrond had for the hobbits. Lord Elrond deserved that honor, but I did not. Regardless, Belledonna petitioned the Shire for me to be taught the Green Language. I believe it was two weeks of arguing, if I remember correctly?”

Bilbo nodded. “Yes. All of the adults in the Shire argued. And after two weeks, they wanted you to learn the Green Language. But you said no.”

“Indeed. I thought, and still think, that I have not done enough to deserve this honor. I also thought that the Green Language was one of the last good and pure secrets left of Middle Earth. It should be left alone.”

The dwarves were silent, absorbing this information.

“When you say the Green Language is different from Westron, how different do you mean?” Dwalin asked. Bilbo looked over at him in surprise. Dwalin was the last person he expected to ask him any questions.

“Oh, the Green Language is very different. I do not know how to say…”

“You don’t know how to explain,” Gandalf corrected. 

“Yes, I do not know how to explain. Um, my Pepa said that the Green Language has magic and Westron does not. So, I cannot say…when I talk it is like I am, um, when I am asleep?”

“It is like you are dreaming?” Fill asked.

Bilbo nodded in relief. “Yes! I do not feel good with Westron.”

“So it isn’t like with Khuzdul where it is more of a translation of the words?” Balin asked. “It is like you are in a completely different state of mind?”

Bilbo looked up at Gandalf. He knew that his mother had explained the difference to him.

Gandalf sighed and patted his shoulder. “Yes, Balin. When Bilbo speaks Westron, he is not simply forgetting words or making grammar mistakes. With the magic of the Green Language, he has to, in a way, fight through that barrier to say what he would like to say. Even Belledonna and Bungo, who were fluent in Westron, had difficulties working though the barrier.

“With this knowledge, I have a theory for Bilbo’s incident with the grass.”

Bilbo looked up at the wizard in surprise. “What?”

“You have a nasty concussion. I think when you were trying to speak Westron earlier, some of that magic made its way through. I think it was brought out by your anger and made the grass grow like that.”

Bilbo sat back, mind racing. That made sense. If he had to fight through a so called “barrier” to speak Westron, it made sense that he brought some of that magic out because of his head injury and his extreme anger. He nodded and sighed. “Yes, I think you are right.”

“Wait, so you aren’t a slow learner?” Gloin asked. Bilbo stared at him.

“What? I…why do you say this?”

Ori and Bofur were shaking their heads while the other dwarves looked anywhere but Bilbo. The hobbit looked up at Gandalf. The wizard looked slightly confused as well.

“I want to apologize, Bilbo,” Thorin finally said. Everyone looked over at him. He hadn’t said anything the entire conversation. “You have told us a lot about your culture and how your language works, and we have come to realize that we have been treating you like a slow learner.”

“What is a slow learner?” Bilbo asked.

“I do not know when hobbit children are taught Westron, but dwarvish children are taught both Khuzdul and Westron from the day they are born. Those who do not learn the languages at the normal speed or have a hard time with one or the other are called slow learners. Depending on the situation, it can be because of the parents neglect or the child’s intelligence. If the blame falls on the child, they can be shunned in a way from society. Life becomes very hard if an adult cannot fully understand either language and this is how dwarves motivate each other to work hard to learn.”

Bilbo stared around at them. “So…You thought that I was a slow learner? And you were, um, teaching me to be good?”

“Yes,” Bofur said. “But not all of us think this way. It is a mindset from the older generation.”

About half the company made sounds of disagreement before being silenced by Thorin’s hand.

“He is right. It is an idea that is slowly fading with the younger dwarves. But there are those in this company who have treated you as such, and for that I apologize.”

Bilbo nodded dumbly, trying to take everything in. “Oh. I understand.”

“When do hobbits begin to learn Westron?” Bombur asked.

Bilbo looked up at Gandalf, mind exhausted. Gandalf nodded.

“Bilbo began to learn when he was 20. For hobbits it is important that they have a deep connection with the Green Language before they begin to learn Westron. But you have seen how many people travel to the Shire. It is not vital to a hobbit’s survival to understand Westron. Many hobbits will be lucky to learn more than a few important phrases to get by in case someone wants to trade.”

“Like that hobbit lass we met when we met you!” Kili said. “She didn't know a lot.”

“Bell is my gardener’s wife,” Bilbo cut in, defensive. “She is very smart. Her parents only know a little Westron. She learned herself.”

“Her parents only knew a little,” Gandalf corrected, gently placing his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “The Gamgees have been working for the Baggins for many years and they have always looked out for one another. Belle is a wonderful woman who has many ideas of the world outside the Shire. But she is a mother and a hobbit first, so she will likely never leave its borders.”

The dwarves looked like they had more questions, but Thorin stood. “That is enough. We are all tired and need some sleep. Thank you, Bilbo, for trusting us with this information. We will guard it with our lives.”

Bilbo scrambled to his feet. “It is nothing. Thank you for, um, listening.” He stretched out his hand on instinct for the Greeting of the Green Lady, and was surprised when the dwarf knew what to do. The hobbit smiled wide and noticed that those blue eyes sparkled in a way he had never seen before.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know almost nothing about gardening so don't take any of my thoughts about it seriously. In other news, I am indeed alive and have been accepted to 2/4 colleges so far! I'm waiting to hear from the other 2, but I'm feeling pretty good as of now.

Bilbo woke to the sound of a soft buzzing. He yawned and sat up, blearily watching a rather large bee fly past him. He knew in the back of his mind that this was not right, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. He was more worried about the grumble in his stomach and the soreness of his back. It had been a miracle he had even fallen asleep. 

They had been woken from their sleep beneath the shadow of the rock by the sound of howls. They were quick to follow Gandalf’s lead running as fast as they could. At one point, Gandalf had sent Bilbo up to scout the orcs’ location, as he had the best eyes in the company.

He pressed himself low against the ground, peering over the hill and watching the orcs and wargs pass over the land. They were close, but going in a different direction. He had no doubt, however, that they would soon correct their mistake.

As he turned to go, his eyes picked up some movement. He turned slowly, watching a very large bear walk out from the woods, eyeing the orcs in the distance. He swallowed nervously and quickly scurried back to the company.

“Gandalf! Gandalf!” he whisper shouted as he neared the company.

“What is it? How close are they?”

“A few leagues. But, that is not the bad thing-“

“You were spotted?” Dwalin growled.

“What? No!”

“See, what did I tell you?” Gandalf said. “He is the quietest creature around.”

“No, no, you listen. There is an animal there!”

“What form did it take? Like a bear?”

Bilbo stared up at the wizard. “Bear? Big and brown animal? Yes.”

“Gandalf, what is it?” Thorin asked.

The wizard paused. “There is a house, not far from here, where we may take refuge.”

“Is he friend or foe?” Fill asked.

“Neither. He will either help us, or kill us.”

Bilbo swallowed.

“What choice to we have?” Thorin asked. At that moment, there was a loud and terrifying roar. It sounded close.

“None,” Gandalf said. And then they were off.

Bilbo stretched gingerly, wincing at the soreness in his back. All of the running and pure panic from the day before had done a number on his body and his head. It still felt like the world was spinning around him, but it didn’t feel as powerful as when he had made the grass grow out of nowhere. But then again, he had been incredibly angry at that moment.

It finally registered that the dwarves that had fallen asleep around him the night before were nowhere to be found and he scrambled to his feet. He tilted his head and listened. Aside from the constant buzzing of the incredibly large bees, there seemed to be a low murmur of voices outside. He followed the sound out to the gardens.

Gandalf and the dwarves were talking to an incredibly large man in the middle of the garden. The man was even taller than Gandalf and was slowly chopping wood while listening to them talk about their journey. Bilbo made his way towards them and sat down next to Ori. Ori jumped at his sudden appearance, but offered him a smile.

The large man looked over at Ori’s movement and smiled. “Welcome, Bilbo Baggins. Your friends have been telling me about your bravery.”

Bilbo looked down in embarrassment. “It is nothing. I will help my friends when I can.”

“Then know that you have their gratitude. I am sure they would not have made it here in one piece if you hadn’t been traveling with them.”

The company was nodding in agreement. Bilbo let himself smile and his eyes caught Thorin’s. For half a moment they shared a look of pride and embarrassment. Then Bombur asked Bilbo if he had eaten yet and the connection broke.

Beorn had laid out quite the spread for their early lunch. Bread and honey with late summer berries and vegetables fresh from the garden with some lovely milk. Bilbo’s stomach growled at the sight of it and he ate his fill for the first time since Lord Elrond’s house. He really had grown quite thin on the journey so far. His waistcoat hung a bit loose on his frame, but that couldn’t be helped.

After lunch Bilbo wandered out to the garden. He felt a bit homesick for his own at the sight of it and longed to plunge his hands into the cool dirt.

He heard Beorn’s heavy footsteps and turned to greet their host. He was surprised to see the man holding a spade and shovel. 

“I have heard from the wizard that hobbits are known for their skill with the earth. I have seen you eyeing my garden and you would do me a great honor if you would treat my garden as your own while you rest here.”

Bilbo smiled wide. “Thank you, Beorn.”

It felt amazing to shed his waistcoat and roll up his sleeves and set to work. He started with the herbs in the far corner of the garden. There were only a few weeds that had managed to infiltrate into the deepest parts of the section. And if the herbs were looking this good, than he knew he didn’t have to worry about the rest of the garden. He began to sing as he carefully removed them by the roots.

*Oh won’t you stay, day by day  
Oh won’t you stay at home with me  
The water’s blue, the deepest hue  
Oh won’t you stay right here with me  
The flowers bloom in garden’s room  
Oh don’t you wander ‘way from me  
It’s safe in here, no need to fear  
Oh please just stay at home with me*

He could feel the easy give of the earth beneath his hands and the sturdiness of a good harvest spreading. He knew that if he just spent a week out here everyday, he could leave Beorn with the best type of gift he could think to give. Bilbo continued to sing song after song as he made his way thought the garden. He didn’t even notice he had an audience until he began to sing a more somber song.

*Home is behind, the world ahead  
And there are many paths to tread  
Through shadow, to the edge of night  
Until the stars are all alight  
Mist and shadow, cloud and shade  
All shall fade  
All shall fade*

“That is a beautiful song, Bilbo,” Balin said softly. Bilbo looked up sharply at the dwarves lounging around him, smoking their pipes or whittling pieces of wood or writing in their books. They looked at peace. Even Thorin did not look to be in pain. Bilbo lightly touched the side of his head where his bandages sat. Oin had grabbed him the second Beorn replenished his supplies and had properly taken care of his wound.

“Thank you. It is a Took song. About traveling.” Even with the Swearing he was wary about telling them too much. He didn’t want them catching on to the Green Language.

“How are you able to help things grow exactly?” Ori asked. He had closed his book and placed it to the side, which Bilbo was immensely thankful for. He was glad that the dwarves seemed to take the Swearing as seriously as hobbits did.

“With the Green Language. Um, I do not know how to say exact how…”

“Exactly how,” said Bofur with an encouraging smile.

“Yes, I do not know how to say exactly how, but I know that we have songs for different plants.” He looked up at their faces of confusion and sighed. “So herbs and vegetables and fruit need a lot of help. They are food. You want your food to be the best. So, I will sing a happy song. A happy song will make them happy.” He paused for a moment and looked down at the lilacs he had just been tending to. “Flowers are different. They are…they have a lot of emotions quickly?”

“Temperamental?” Fill suggested.

“Yes, flowers are temperamental. I have to feel them. I sing for them. The lilacs have too much anger. So I will bring their emotions down.”

“How do you ‘feel’ their emotions?” Dori asked. He looked skeptical. 

Bilbo shrugged, not wanting to struggle his way through explaining the unidentifiable pull in his gut every time his hands drag into the soil. He did not feel like explaining how it almost felt like the Green Lady herself was guiding him. Every hobbit knew the feeling and it somehow felt to intimate to explain even if he could find the words for it. “I do. I do not know how. I do.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment as Bilbo hummed. Then he looked back up at them. “I have a question. You say that you do not like when a dwarf cannot speak Westron and Khuzdul. But Bifur can only say Khuzdul?”

“Bifur has an axe in his head,” Gloin said gruffly. A few of them chuckled.

Bilbo’s eyebrows furrowed. “But, you do not make him learn?”

“Bifur could speak Westron before his injury,” Bombur said. “But afterwards, no matter what we did he couldn’t form the words. He can understand you just fine, but he can only respond in Khuzdul. We were worried that by removing the axe he’d lose all ability to speak.”

“So you can see lad,” Bofur cut in, “that even dwarves have special cases.”

Bilbo nodded. He brushed off his pants and stood to stretch in the setting sun. “I am hungry. I am going to go eat.”

“That’s the best thing you’ve said today!” Kili exclaimed, slapping his back. Bilbo cringed slightly at the sharp ache that suddenly appeared in his head as he was jolted, but managed to push it aside as he made his way to what was sure to be another excellent meal.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm alive. I chose which college I am going to and I moved back to the US. There was so much happening that I went through a little bit of a writer's slump. I couldn't bring myself to write. So I messed around with dialogue for two weeks and am ready to post a little bit of a, let's call it a slice of life. This isn't necessarily a chapter that moves the plot, but rather a chapter that gives Thilbo a fighting chance.
> 
> Regarding the Green Language. I have done a lot of research and have finally identified a real life language that sounds similar to what I think the Green Language sounds like in my head. I think Swahili is the closest to what I hear when I imagine Bilbo speaking his native tongue. I also imagine Bilbo's accent to be a lighter accent when he speaks Westron. He has really worked on his accent from the time his parents died to this adventure. Think of it as his way of staying connected with his parents, who I always imagined speaking Westron with very little accent. Of course, when Bell spoke Westron her accent was very heavy. Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

It had been two days since their conversation in the garden. Bilbo was dutifully outside every moment he could spare, which was nearly all day. There was only so much weeding one could do, but it calmed him to be surrounded by plants. He would often nap beneath the warm sun or smoke from his pipe. His Longbottom Leaf supply was dwindling, but he paid it no mind. He doubted the next part of their journey would allow him enough time to smoke.

Gandalf and Beorn were often out somewhere. Bilbo suspected they were talking about whatever sickness Radagast had mentioned.

At that moment, Bilbo was smoking near the pansies. He was humming a song his mother once taught him when he was a tween. He barely registered another’s presence until they were standing right above him.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Thorin asked. Bilbo noticed he still favored one side as he stood.

“No. Please, sit.”

Bilbo watched him sit next to him and begin to pull out his pipe. Bilbo offered him his pouch of weed before Thorin could produce his own. “This is Longbottom Leaf. It is the best weed in the Shire.”

Thorin smiled in thanks and packed his pipe. They sat in silence for some time. Well, in speaking silence. Bilbo was still humming different tunes.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question, Mister Baggins?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo shook his head. “Please, Bilbo. You can ask a question.”

“How many songs do you know?”

Bilbo chuckled. “A lot of songs. There are songs that Mema’s and Pepa’s teach. There are songs that I, um, write on my head?”

Thorin looked at him in surprise. “You make up your own songs?”

Bilbo nodded. “Yes. All of Hobbits do.”

They sat in silence for a beat. 

“Do you know this flower?” Bilbo asked. When he responded with a shake of his head, Bilbo smiled slightly. “I think in Westron it is ‘pansy.’ It is my Mema’s favorite flower. She planted a lot in our garden. They are best in Hobbiton. Pepa’s tomatoes are best in Hobbiton. They won every year in the festival.”

“If all hobbits are able to manipulate plants, how were your parents able to grow the best pansies and the best tomatoes?”

Bilbo chuckled. “This is, how do you say, secret?” Thorin nodded and smiled a little. They returned to their easy silence. 

The sun was nearly at its peak when Thorin spoke again. “The next part of our journey will take us through Mirkwood. They say there is a sickness on that forest. Will you be affected by this?”

“Affected?”

“Will the sickness of the forest make you sick?”

Bilbo shrugged. “I do not know.”

Thorin looked at him with slight concern before nodding slightly. “If you do feel the sickness of the forest affecting you, tell me immediately.”

“I will. But you cannot act without pain.” Thorin’s eyebrows furrowed. “I can see. You still hurt. But you say to Oin that you do not. You cannot…act without true.”

“Lie?”

“Yes, you cannot lie.”

He sighed and shifted slightly. “I must. The company cannot think that their leader is weak. I am of Durin’s line, and I must be strong for them.”

Bilbo shook his head. “No you are hurt. That, what was it, big dog?”

“Warg.”

“That warg bited you. You are not weak, just hurt. Pain will go away, but not if you lie.”

Though his face was serious, there was a spark of humor in Thorin’s eyes. “Do you mean that the warg bit me?”

He huffed. “Yes, yes, the warg bit you. You understand. Do not lie to Oin and Balin and Dwalin. They want to help.”

“And yet, you were the only one to notice?”

“They do not say things because you will be angry.” He rolled his eyes. “You are king, but you act like fauntling.”

“What is a fauntling?”

“Little hobbit.”

Thorin scoffed. “Careful, Bilbo. You have now taught us three words in the Green Language.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Everyone can know these words. Hobbits talked for weeks and said that people can know five words.”

“And what are the other two words?” he asked, curious. 

“Well, it is not easy to say. My name cannot, um, translate? Yes, lots of hobbit names cannot translate, so hobbits say that people can know these. People can know tween. Tween is not fauntling, but not adult.”

“What are the ages of tweens?”

“20 and 32. Hobbits are adults at 33.”

“So hobbits decided that other people can learn four words—Mema, Pepa, fauntling, and tween—and rather than a distinct fifth word, they decided that they would not translate hobbit names?”

“Yes and no. Yes for first part. Some hobbit names translate. Lots of girls translate because they are like flowers.”

“Most girls are named after flowers?”

“Yes. My Mema is Belledonna. Belledonna is a flower with berries. You eat and you die.”

Thorin stared at Bilbo. “Your mother was named for a poison?”

He tilted his head. “Poison?”

“It is something you eat that makes you die,” Thorin quickly explained.

“Oh, yes. Mema is called a poison. Took family like to give very strong names to girls. Names make them strong.”

Thorin blinked a few times, processing this information. Bilbo turned back to the garden and watched a bee slowly buzz by. He reminisced on the time a bee stung him when he was very young. His mother had pulled him into her arms and sung a song about the dangers of curiosity. But when she finished she told him that if he let one unfortunate thing dictate his entire life, he would end up like the Sackville-Baggins. He had to hurt in order to grow.

“The forest…” Bilbo began. “When will we go to the forest?”

Thorin heaved a great sigh. “I wanted to leave as soon as we could, but I was in no state to travel. Gandalf is doing his very best to stay well away from me so that we cannot plan our next move. He is forcing us to wait, and every day of waiting brings Durin’s Day closer.”

Bilbo nodded. They sat in silence for the rest of the afternoon, watching the sun slowly begin its descent across the sky. It wasn’t until Gloin found them for dinner that they spoke again.

“Thank you, Bilbo,” Thorin said when the hobbit offered his hand to help him stand.

“You’re welcome, Thorin.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I have no excuse. I hope you guys like this chapter. I wrote most of it at midnight

The day had finally arrived for them to depart from Beorn’s. Bilbo took one last walk through the garden, taking a deep breath of the warm air. He wasn’t sure what lay ahead for him, but he hoped to one day come back and see this place. 

“Come, Bilbo,” Gandalf said. He was already on his borrowed horse. Bilbo turned away from him towards Beorn, who was watching them from his doorway. He had given them an amazing breakfast and plenty of supplies to last them through Mirkwood. The great man nodded slowly, which he returned respectfully. Then he climbed up on to his pony.

They rode across the great field of grass at a brisk pace. The forest loomed in the distance. Bilbo wondered if the pit he was beginning to feel in his stomach was because of nerves or because of the sickness. Kili made a joke at Ori’s expense, but no one laughed.

“Why cannot we go around?” Bilbo asked.

“We can’t go around because it stretches for miles. It will take far too long,” Gandalf muttered more to himself than as an answer. “This is the only safe way through it.”

“Send the ponies back once you’ve taken your supplies off of them!” Thorin ordered. Bilbo absentmindedly stroked his pony’s hair while he stared up at the tall and dark trees. It almost hurt his chest to even think about the days ahead of them.

“Not my horse!” Gandalf suddenly cried. He mounted his horse with amazing speed.

“What is this?” Thorin asked.

“I must go. I will meet you there. Do not enter that mountain without me!”

“Gandalf?” Bilbo asked, suddenly scared.

“Do not fret, my boy. I will see you again soon. Stick to the path! Do not lose it!” And with that, he rode off. 

The dwarves grumbled as they set the remaining ponies free and prepared to enter the forest. Bilbo wrung his hands as he stared up at the tall, tall trees.

Their journey began as pleasantly as it could have been. Dwalin took the lead and made sure that they remained on the path every time it twisted and turned. Most of the dwarves made small conversation as they walked. Bilbo remained silent. His eyes darted to every small sign of movement off of the path. He felt uneasy. Like they were being watched. 

About a week in, he sat next to Thorin for dinner. The rest of the company was talking about some sort of mining technique.

“I do not like this forest,” Bilbo muttered.

“Me neither. It feels like we are not alone.”

“Yes. Someone is watching. My stomach does not feel good.”

Thorin looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Do you feel sick? Are you ok?”

“No, not sick. Um…my stomach is down.” When he looked at Thorin’s confusion he huffed. “Why is this so hard to say? My stomach is down on the ground. This forest does not make me feel good.”

“You feel…uneasy?”

“Yes, I think that is the word. Uneasy.”

Thorin nodded slowly, glancing into the darkness. “I last traveled through here years ago. Mirkwood has always had a sickness, but I fear it has grown worse.”

“How long ago?”

“Hm?”

“How long ago did you travel?”

“I think it was 60 years ago. I was traveling to trade for some good metal to forge some tools.”

Bilbo stared at him, mouth open. “60?”

“…Yes, 60 years ago.”

“How, how old are you?”

“I am 195.”

Bilbo looked around at the company, still discussing a mining technique. Most of them looked to be about his age. He had thought that dwarf life expectancy was similar to that of a hobbit’s. Suddenly he wasn’t sure if any of his previous assumptions had been correct.

Thorin was eyeing him carefully. “Bilbo?”

“Yes, I, um, I did not know how long dwarves’ life is.”

“You didn’t? Aren’t dwarves’ and hobbits’ lives of similar length?”

Bilbo scoffed. “No. Your life is more longer.”

Thorin paused, eyes squinting. “How much longer?”

Bilbo suddenly felt embarrassed. “Um, I do not know, you have not said to me how long you live.”

“Dwarves usually live to be around 250 years old.”

Bilbo dropped his head into his hands, suddenly woozy. He felt betrayed, for some unknown reason. Like he had been lied to this entire time.

“Bilbo? Bilbo, are you okay?”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Thorin, what have you done to our burglar?”

All the dwarves began talking all at once. It was far too much noise for poor Bilbo who still felt uneasy about the forest around them and was trying to pull himself together. He slowly straightened, looking around at the company, who quickly fell silent. It was silly, but this somehow felt more important than the Swearing. He took a deep breath.

“I did not know how long you live, and it is more longer than hobbits. Hobbits live to 100.”

There were cries of surprise all around him, and he quickly shushed them, looking around at their surroundings for any changes or sudden movements. When it seemed nothing was going to attack them, he looked back at the company. His eyes quickly fell on Thorin, who looked a little paler than he had before.

“100?!” Kill asked. “That’s absurd! That’s barely longer than men!”

“Just how old are you, Bilbo?” Balin asked.

“I will be 51 this year.”

“51!”

“That’s so young!”

“You’re younger than Kili!”

“What? How old is Kili?” Bilbo cut in to their shock. Kili acted so immature sometimes, he couldn’t possibly be younger than him.

“I’m 77.”

The other dwarves began shouting out their ages, but Bilbo wasn’t paying attention. He was rubbing his temples with his finger tips. He thought his concussion had been mostly healed, but all of this sudden chatter after a week of quiet was bringing it all back. It probably didn’t help that this sudden revelation was so much information.

“That’s enough!” Thorin said. “Everyone settle down, we don’t want to draw any more attention to ourselves.”

Bofur muttered something is Khuzdul, which made most of the company scoff or chuckle. Thorin shot a look his way.

*You dwarves are so annoying,* Bilbo muttered back. *Giving me a heart attack and trying to take away the rest of my short life.*

Everyone settled back down. A few people started to get ready to sleep while Dwalin prepared to take first watch.

“Is age something that hobbits keep to themselves? I’ve never heard anything about how long hobbits can live,” Thorin asked.

“No, but hobbits do not talk to a lot of people. Dwarves do not talk to a lot of hobbits, too.” Bilbo suddenly began to giggle.

“What?” Thorin looked somewhat amused and somewhat concerned.

“I…this is so silly. We are the same years old.”

Now Thorin looked really concerned. “What?”

“I have 50 years. You have 50 years. We are the same years old.” Then Bilbo really began to laugh. The company that was still awake sent questioning looks in his direction, but he didn’t notice. This revelation was probably the funniest thing he had thought in a long time. 

“Yes, we are the same age, please calm down. The others are trying to sleep.”

Bilbo tried to stop, but he couldn’t. It was like the unease in his stomach was taking over his entire body. He was drawing shorter breaths, and nothing felt right. His head hurt. His limbs felt disconnected. He wondered if what he felt was normal for Mirkwood. He felt Thorin’s hands on his shoulders. They felt foreign and familiar at the same time. His cheeks felt wet, and he wondered if it had begun to rain.

“Bilbo, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

He realized he was becoming hysterical. He dug his hands into the ground, looking for something to hold. The ground felt dry and foreign. He looked around wildly for something he knew. The murky colors of the forest flashed in front of his eyes, but a dazzling shade of blue did, too. He searched for the source, and once he found it, he focused as hard as he could.

“You’re okay, Bilbo. You’re okay.”

He gulped at the stale air like a dying man. Eventually, it didn’t taste as stale as it had before. He slowly relaxed his shoulders, realizing how tense he actually was. His fingers felt sore. He looked away from Thorin’s eyes and down at the ground. There were little purple and pink flowers growing around where his hands had dug into the ground.

“Those are pansies, right?” Thorin asked softly. “They were your mother’s favorite flower. You said that she grew the best in the Shire.”

Bilbo nodded, staring down at these miracle flowers. He suddenly felt so tired. Like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Sleep, Bilbo. You’re safe with us.”

He nodded and laid down on his bedspread. He stared at the flowers. He felt eyes on his back, but they weren’t the eyes of the dangers in the forest. They were the eyes of someone he trusted. They felt like his mother’s eyes. He was asleep before he knew it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is less of a chapter about the story and more of a chapter exploring what might happen relationship wise between characters. I hope everyone is doing well and is having a good summer so far! The fourth of July is coming up, and I hope(if you celebrate it) you see some good fireworks!

Bilbo opened his eyes to dying flowers. He slowly sat up, head pounding. He felt weak. Most of the company was still asleep, except for Nori, who was on watch. Nori looked up from his dagger he was cleaning.

“Are you alright, Bilbo?” he asked quietly. Bilbo shrugged and rubbed his temples. He looked back down at the dead flowers and felt a pit settle in his stomach. Then he looked to his left at the sleeping figure of Thorin. He looked peaceful asleep. Not like the stern and cautious king he was when he was awake. Bilbo studied the shape of his nose and briefly wondered if it had ever been broken in battle. Most of the dwarves noses had. It wasn’t always easy to tell, as some of them had seen a healer soon enough that they painfully put it back into place so it wouldn’t heal crooked. You only knew about it because they liked to boast about their battle scars and injuries.

“Bilbo, come over here a second.” Bilbo looked over at Nori, who now had Oin sitting next to him.

“Come here, laddie. Let’s take a look at that head of yours.”

“How do you know my head has pain?” Bilbo asked as he sat down next to him.

“That,” Nori answered, nodding to the now dead flowers. “Gandalf said that because of your injury, your barrier or whatever is down. Your noggin must have been hurting if you were able to grow those.”

“Well, it does, um, hurt?”

“Yep, hurt,” agreed Oin. “Where?”

Bilbo pointed to his temples and where his wound had been. It was healing nicely and the wound itself didn’t hurt, but his head underneath it did. He said this much to Oin who nodded and starting digging out different herbs and plants.

“So, do you feel better from last night?” Nori asked.

“I do not know. My head hurt.”

“Hurts. And I don’t mean your injury. You had a bit of a breakdown.”

Bilbo looked down in shame, which made Oin tsk. “We don’t mean anything by it, lad. Lots of dwarves who have seen battle or mines collapse get like that.”

“But I have not battled or saw a mine fall. It is…I do not like Mirkwood.”

Nori nodded to the flowers. “Look what this forest is doing to the plants. With how hobbits are, we kinda expected it to get to you. Don’t worry. You got us, and you got Thorin.”

Oin suddenly hit Nori upside the head and shushed him. Bilbo looked between the two of them curiously before looking back at Thorin. He wondered what that had meant, that it was his eyes that grounded him when even the earth couldn’t. If they had been on unpoisoned earth, would his eyes still have been the ones to ground him? He shook his head of the thoughts.

“How long until we will go?”

“A few more hours, I’d say,” Nori said.

“Okay. Goodnight.” Bilbo stood and moved back to his bedspread. He lay on his side facing the flowers, but it unsettled him. He shifted until he was facing Thorin and went back to studying his nose. He made a note to ask if it had been broken in the morning. 

He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep until someone was shaking him awake.

Another week passed. Bilbo made a habit of seeking out Thorin when they set up camp for the night. Part of it was for the company. Thorin had many interesting stories to tell and was a very good listener. He didn’t correct Bilbo’s mistakes constantly like the others did. It wasn’t that Bilbo didn’t appreciate the help, but it had started to weigh on him that he was being corrected everyday. He needed a break to just talk without worry.

But part of the reason he sought him out was that he felt safer in this dying forest when he slept next to him. And Thorin did not seem to mind, as he always left space beside him for Bilbo to set up his bedroll. 

He did notice the dwarves were shooting him more looks and kept muttering in Khuzdul. Bilbo was seriously tempted to just speak entirely in the Green Language to give them a taste of their own medicine. It was extremely annoying to him that he had worked so hard on Westron just to be pushed away by yet another language. He almost took up Kili and Fili’s offer from the beginning of their journey to teach him Khuzdul. But he wasn’t sure what he could possibly give them in return that wasn’t lessons in the Green Language.

Then everything fell apart.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newwwwwwww chapter! This one is shorter, but the next few won't be. I hope to post the next one in a few days, so in the mean time, I want to know your theories! What is going to happen next? I'd also love to know your thoughts on the story so far and any constructive criticism you think is applicable to help me improve my story. Thank you!

“It’s been days of this,” Bilbo heard Balin whisper to Thorin. “I’m worried how much longer our supplies will last.”

“There’s not much we can do. I thought we would be out of these wretched woods by now, but I think the sickness is playing tricks on our judgement of distance.”

Bilbo sipped his water. They were taking a small break before continuing to walk and walk and walk with no tangible outcome. He was sitting next to Ori and Dori and pretending he couldn’t hear everyone whispering amongst each other.

“Do you think having Gandalf with us would have made a difference?” Dwalin asked.

“Perhaps. Who knows what powers that wizard truly has.”

“We need to keep moving,” said Thorin, this time loud enough for the company to hear. Everyone stood and continued walking down the cursed path. It was a few hours later when they suddenly stopped.

“What’s the hold up?”

“What’s going on?”

Nori, who was leading the group, just pointed.

“The path…it’s gone!”

Bilbo groaned and started to pray to the Green Lady for forgiveness for whatever he had done to get such rotten luck. The dwarves split up, trying to find where the path started, but they had all forgotten that the curse of the forest meant they would never find it again. Eventually, the regrouped and decided to just start walking in what seemed like the right direction. 

About an hour later the magic of the forest was hitting Bilbo hard. He was drawing shorter breaths and felt nauseous and light headed. Bofur kept a hand on his arm in order to keep him upright as they walked. Bilbo felt a headache coming on, and it was already incredibly painful. Oin tried to give him some herbs, but Bilbo was so weak he just threw it back up. The dwarves exchanged many worried glances and comments, but they couldn’t do much besides give him support as they tried to hurry through the forest.

Two days later, the dwarves were beginning to feel the sickness. They walked in a daze, feet moving and minds still. Bilbo could barely keep his eyes open at this point. He wondered if he was still alive or if he was trapped in some sort of hell. He vaguely registered the dwarves raising their voices as they argued. He wanted to tell them to quiet down. Who knew what creatures were in that forest? He felt the hands that had been holding him let go. He collapsed on the ground. Then he heard screams that quickly faded into the distance. He tried to bring that to the dwarves’ attention, but he couldn’t get his mouth to open.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there. It could have been days, it could have been minutes. But someone was gently lifting him and cradling him to their body. He let the sway of them running lull him into a dreamless sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Bilbo

When Bilbo opened his eyes, even the dim light hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will the nausea away. His head pounding and his limbs felt like they were tied down by anvils. He blinked a few times and finally began to register where he was.

It was a small room with soft white light beaming in through the windows. The walls looking like they were made of wood, but not planks of wood. Was he inside a tree? There was a chair and table across from his bed that was far too big for him. An elf with bright red hair sat in the chair, reading. The table was filled with different vials and bowls. Bilbo squinted at the elf and cleared his throat.

The elf looked up and smiled. “At last, you are awake,” she said quietly. “You’ve been asleep for many days. We were worried the sickness would never leave you.”

*Who are you?*

The elf frowned slightly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

*What? But I’m speaking Wes-Oh no.* It was as if his brain had hit a reset button. Everything he had known about Westron was gone. He used to feel the barrier he had to push through to speak Westron, but now it wasn’t there. Bilbo pressed a hand to his head and grimaced. It didn’t hurt as much as before, but it was definitely a different type of pain. Before it was sharp and underneath his wound. Now, it felt like his brain was mashed potatoes. *Do you have something to write with?* he asked, miming writing on his hand.

“I’ll get you a pen and paper. Just stay in bed. I don’t want you injuring yourself more,” she said with a small smile. She left the room, and Bilbo could see another elf standing guard outside before the door closed. So he wasn’t here on their kindness. He was a prisoner in a fancy room. Thoughts of the company flashed across his mind, and he wondered what elvish kingdom those fools had managed to get themselves a prisoner of. For that had to be the only reason he was being kept under guard. What elf would keep a complete stranger under guard? And a hobbit, too.

Then Bilbo wondered if these elves had even seen hobbits before. He might not be under guard because of the company, but because these elves didn’t even know what he was. Which meant the company might not even be here. Because thinking back, those screams that he had heard in Mirkwood sounded a lot like the dwarves’ screams.

The elf reappeared with some paper and a pen. She handed them to him and moved the chair closer to him before sitting down.

“I should introduce myself. I am Tauriel. What is your name?”

Bilbo wrote his name, but suddenly realized that he had written using the Green Language’s alphabet. He groaned and scribbled it out. He squeezed his eyes shut and pictured the Westron letters needed for his name. He very carefully wrote out B-i-l-b-o-B-a-g-g-i-n-s. It took more effort that he thought, but once he got it written he proudly handed it over to Tauriel, who had very patiently waited for him to finish writing.

“Bilbo Baggins? It is nice to meet you, Bilbo. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you? You don’t look like a dwarf, but you don’t look like a man, either.”

Bilbo took the paper back and carefully wrote H-o-b-b-i-t. This time, he wrote it faster. That must be a good sign.

“A hobbit? We always thought hobbits were a thing of stories.”

Bilbo shook his head. “N-n-no.”

Tauriel smiled widely. “There, you spoke Westron!”

Bilbo began to write again. “I am with dwarf?”

She nodded. “Yes, they told us they lost you in the forest. I was able to find you. They’re all here, don’t worry.”

He took a deep breath and tried to speak again. “I…I c-can see-see d-d-d-dwarf?”

Tauriel’s smile fell and she seemed to wrestle with her thoughts. “I can’t take you to them. You need to heal more. I don’t think you’ll be able to walk yet.”

“D-d-dwarf see…me?”

“They are a bit preoccupied at the moment. I don’t think they’ll be able to.”

Bilbo squinted at her. Then he pointed at the door. “Elf? He is g-g-guard?”

“…..Yes.”

Bilbo scoffed and threw back the blanket, sending the papers and pen scattering across the floor. Tauriel quickly stood and put up her hands.

“Bilbo, you can’t get up yet. You are still too weak.”

*Please, Mirkwood couldn’t kill me. I’m going to see your king, or whoever it is that rules these halls.* Bilbo swung his legs off the bed and pushed himself up. His knees buckled and he grabbed the edge of the chair Tauriel had been sitting in. He pulled himself up and began to shakily walk towards the door. Tauriel grabbed his arm before he could fall a second time.

“Bilbo, you need to get back into bed.”

“No! I s-see ki-king.”

Tauriel sighed and helped him out the door. The guard asked her something in Elvish, to which she responded. Bilbo glared up at the two of them and kept walking. Tauriel directed him down the halls. By the time they had reached the throne room, Bilbo was sweating, but his legs felt stronger. He had continued to babble in both Westron and the Green Language the entire time, practicing. He wasn’t anywhere near back to normal, but it was better than what he had started with.

The doors opened and a throne sat high above them. Bilbo had to tilt his head up to look at the elf sitting on it. He had a crown made of branches and berries and had a haughty look about him.

“I am sorry to bother you, your majesty, but he insisted that he see you.”

The king waved his hand. Tauriel nodded and stepped back. Bilbo swayed a little when her hands left him, but he forced himself upright. The king considered him.

“I have never seen someone get over the forest’s sickness so quickly, nor have I seen any creature by the likes of you.”

Bilbo swallowed. “I am B-Bilbo Baggins. I am a hobbit.”

“A hobbit? Don’t you live near the Blue Mountains? What are you doing in my kingdom?”

“I am travel with Thorin O-oakenshie-ield,” Bilbo stuttered, wondering when Thorin’s name had suddenly become so hard to say. “We go to t-trade.”

The king scoffed. “A likely story. I know where your destination is. I am not a fool. You are going to wake the dragon. You are going to take back the Lonely Mountain. But what part could you have to play in this foolish quest?”

Bilbo chewed on his cheek, deciding to tell the truth. “I am b-burglar. I take st-st-stone.”

The king leaned forward. “The Arkenstone?” he whispered. Bilbo nodded. The king raised a hand and Tauriel bowed and walked out of the throne room, the guards going with her.

Once they were alone, the king stood and made his way down the steps of his throne. He stopped in front of Bilbo, considering him. “When Tauriel found you, you were surrounded by wildflowers. The second she lifted you from the ground, the flowers wilted and died. What power do Hobbit’s hold that they can manipulate nature like that?”

Bilbo felt panic rise in his chest. He tried to keep his breathing steady as he stared up at this elf.

“Hobbits…Hobbits not grow pl-plant fast. My head pain. Magic g-go out. Plant grow fast.”

The king stared down at him. “So all hobbit’s have the power to manipulate nature, but because your head is in pain, you can make it grow faster?”

Bilbo paused, then slowly nodded. The king turned away and walked towards his throne, pausing halfway. Bilbo watched him in nervous silence.

“Can you use your magic to get rid of the poison of Mirkwood?” he finally asked. He turned to look back at Bilbo, and his eyes were intense. Bilbo wanted to cower away.

“Um…I not know. Forest give m-me sick on path. Dwarf not sick on path. I grow plant, plant d-die on path.”

The king considered his words. “If there were more hobbits here, would that make a difference?”

Bilbo swallowed. “I not know.”

The king stared at him for a long time. “Considering I have never heard of this ability, I can assume that this is a secret kept among hobbits?” When Bilbo nodded, he continued. “I can also assume that while your magic is helpful to your race, which from what I remember is a farming race, it doesn’t have the power to fight against forces like the sickness in Mirkwood?”

“Y-yes.”

“And…” The king leaned in close to Bilbo. “…this secret is something you do not want getting out to everyone.”

“Yes.”

The king straightened and smiled a smile that was too twisted to to even be considered kind. “Alright, Bilbo Baggins, I will keep your secret and I will let you and your company go. But, you must promise to bring me back something from that dragon hoard, assuming you even survive.”

Bilbo quickly nodded. Anything to keep the Green Language a secret.

“I want you to bring me back some jewels that those dwarves stole from me years ago. They shine like starlight. They are mine. If you succeed and return them to me, no one will ever know about your secret. But, if you succeed, and keep them from me, like those selfish dwarves have, consider your secret out. I hope your people are protected enough that those who are greedy won’t be able to use the power you have.”

Bilbo gulped. He wondered if the king could see his hands shaking. “A-and, if I not succeed?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t tell the dead’s secrets. That would be too cruel.” The king smiled, like he was telling a joke.

Bilbo nodded and stuck his hand out to shake on it. The king took his hand for barely a second before dropping it and quickly turning and walking back up to his throne.

“Tauriel!” he called. She walked in quickly and bowed. “Take him to his friends. Give them their weapons and enough supplies to get them to Laketown. I want them gone within the hour.”

“Yes, your majesty,” she said. She placed her hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and turned him to lead him out of the throne room.

“Oh, and Bilbo?” the king called. Bilbo turned back to him lounging calmly on his throne. “If you tell your company of the deal we made, I’ll be forced to forget my end of it. Is that understood?”

Bilbo nodded and bowed slightly before following Tauriel out.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one of those chapters that doesn't so much move the plot as explore character relationships. Enjoy!

The company had been held in cells deep in the kingdom, or so Tauriel told him. She did not want to take him all the way down and then all the way back up when he was still so weak. She instead brought him to some huge doors where a group of elves were slowly bringing out packs and weapons and laying them out. Bilbo was given his little sword, which he hadn’t even realized he had missed until he was holding it.

He heard the complaints and groans of Khuzdul in the distance. He whipped towards the sound, nearly falling over in the process. Tauriel steadied him as the dwarves slowly came into view. Kili spotted Bilbo first and cried his name before breaking free of the guards and running towards him. One of the elves called out a warning, but Tauriel just held up her hand and shook her head.

“Bilbo! You’re alright!” Kili cried, stopping just short of him and sweeping him up into a tight hug. Bilbo winced as his head was jostled, but he hugged Kili back and patted his shoulder. 

“Y-yes, I am ok.”

The rest of the company arrived quickly and gave him hugs or pats on the back.

“Here are your weapons and supplies,” Tauriel spoke above the chatter. “I will lead you to our borders before letting you go.”

The Khuzdul made a reappearance as the dwarves began gathering up their things. Tauriel took this opportunity to kneel down in front of Bilbo and offer a little bag.

“This has some herbs that should help you. They’re best if you can make tea with them, but if you can’t, just hold them in your mouth for a few minutes. You should use them twice a day.”

Bilbo took the bag and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

She smiled and stood. The company was watching the two of them, suspicion in their eyes. But Bofur quickly walked over and placed his arm around Bilbo. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Yes.”

Tauriel led them through the doors and out into the sunshine. The dwarves sighed as it hit their skin, but to Bilbo, it felt euphoric. He just wanted to lay down and soak it all in. His knees actually shook a little. But he muscled up the strength he still had and followed the company out. 

When Tauriel finally left them, they were at the edge of the forest. In front of them was a great river that led to a lake. And beyond that, the Lonely Mountain. The dwarves stared up in awe of them, but Bilbo just sat down and rested his head in his shaky hands. It took a moment for the dwarves to tear their eyes away, but when they finally did, they immediately crowded around their burglar.

“Bilbo?”

“Are you okay?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Oi, give him some space!” Oin yelled, elbowing his way to the front. He knelt before Bilbo and lifted his head, looking back and forth between his eyes. “How are you feeling, lad?”

“M-my head…pain. W-w-westron go,” he managed to get out. The company was silent.

“What…what do you mean?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo looked around at everyone, eyes coming to a stop on Thorin. He looked worried, but it didn’t look like he, or any other member of the company, had been injured in any way. Bilbo swallowed a sob.

“My Westron go. I not talk good. I…I hear good. B-but talk…” And then Bilbo hung his head and cried. He cried because of the pain. He cried because he was so incredibly frustrated that he was talking like a fauntling who was first learning Westron. He cried because his people’s secret, that they had worked so hard to keep, was in the hands of someone he did not trust. If he failed to get the jewels while he lived, then his people’s secret would be released to the world, and only the Green Lady knew what cruelty they might face. And he couldn’t tell the dwarves any of this.

He could feel someone rubbing his back and could hear the dwarves muttering around him. Someone said something about making camp and he soon heard a fire crackling somewhere behind him. Still, he cried. Perhaps it was because he had kept everything bottled up for so long. He didn’t really care and just wanted to stop. Eventually his cries subsided. He slowly stood and made his way to the river to wash his face. He wanted nothing more than to just jump in and wash his entire body, but he was still shy about bathing out where everyone could see him.

When he steeled himself and turned back to the company, they were all sitting around the fire, pretending they hadn’t been watching him. He slowly walked back over and sat next to Thorin and Balin. Bombur offered him a bowl of stew, which he took gratefully. The dwarves talked about meaningless things, giving Bilbo a chance to eat and take a breath. Once he set down his bowl, they all turned to look at him.

“Are you okay, truly okay, Bilbo?” Ori asked. Bilbo shrugged.

“T-Tauriel talk…no, s-s-say I am very s-sick. Forest give me sick. She s-say I sleep a lot time. Forest sick, um, take a lot me.”

“So the sickness of Mirkwood took a lot of you, and it changed you?” Fili asked. Bilbo nodded.

“I say o-o-only G-green Langu-guage. M-my head…change,” Bilbo said, making a swirling motion with his hands, like he was kneading dough.

“You said you had to speak through a barrier,” Balin said. “Right now, is that barrier up extra high, so you’re having more difficulty speaking?”

Bilbo shook his head. “B-b-barrier? B-barrier is go.”

“The barrier is gone?” 

“Yes. I not know how I talk. Barrier is g-gone?”

The dwarves began muttering amongst themselves. Bilbo pulled out the bag Tauriel had given him. “I…m-make t-t-tea?”

“I’ll make it for you,” Bombur said, taking the bag from him. A few dwarves began to yawn.

“Get some sleep,” Thorin said. “I’ll take first watch. Dori, you’re second. Bifur, you’re third.”

The dwarves began to settle in for sleep around them. Bombur finished making the tea and handed Bilbo a cup of it and his bag. Bilbo sipped it, staring into the fire. Thorin still sat next to him, sharpening a knife.

“What happened when you woke up?” Thorin asked. “How long have you been awake?”

Bilbo quickly drank the rest of his tea and placed the empty cup down on the ground next to him.

“I w-wake u-u-up now.”

“Today? You woke up today?”

“Yes. I see Tauriel. She take me to you.”

Thorin looked at him, really looked at him. Bilbo stared right back, daring him to ask what had actually happened so he could continue to lie to his friends.

“Did you see Thranduil at all?”

Bilbo furrowed his eyebrows. “Who is th-that?”

“The pointy eared king of that cursed kingdom,” he said, muttering something in Khuzdul as he turned back to the fire. “He demanded something that was not his and insulted the memory of the dwarves who didn’t make it out of the mountain when the fat worm attacked.”

Bilbo felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What he w-want?”

“Some jewels that he had wanted made into a necklace. But he refused to pay what was due for it so we kept it as payment for all the work that had been put into it. Because of that necklace, he refused to help us when the dragon attacked. He is petty and foolish and deserves everything that has happened to him.”

Bilbo nodded. He couldn’t tell them about his deal with Thranduil. Hopefully when he got into the mountain, he could quietly take the jewels and be off with them without them knowing any wiser. From all their descriptions of the treasure, there had to be too much for them to even really notice. Or maybe he could claim it as his portion of the treasure and hand it off to Thranduil on his way back to the Shire.

The Shire. It seemed so far away, but for the first time on this journey, Bilbo did not feel a pit in his stomach when he thought of his beloved home. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to go back. He had grown so close to his company, and he didn’t want to go back to living on the other side of the world.

“Bilbo?” Thorin asked. Bilbo snapped out of his thoughts and turned to him. “I asked what was on your mind. You looked sad.”

Bilbo offered a small smile. “No, not sad. I th-think Shire, but I am not sad. I th-think go away dwarf, I am sad.”

Thorin looked a little surprised. “You’re, you’re not sad when you think of the Shire? But why? That’s your home!”

“Yes, Shire is h-home. Mema and Pepa home. But they…die a lot time p-past. Shire is not home. Dwarf is n-new, um…Mema and Pepa f-f-family? Dwarf is family.”

Bilbo turned away from the fire to look at Thorin, and there was something in his eyes that was strange and new and welcoming. Bilbo didn’t want that look to disappear, because it made him feel like he belonged somewhere for the first time since his mother had died.

Thorin placed a hand on Bilbo’s. “We are honored to be considered your family. I…I am honored to be considered your family. I hope you know that you have long been considered part of ours.”

Bilbo smiled wider than he ever had before.


End file.
